


Dust, Diamonds

by maokitty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Non-Graphic Sex, Romance, domestic abuse, mentions of sex work and grooming but nothing explicit/detailed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 39,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11843811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maokitty/pseuds/maokitty
Summary: Ever since your youths, the two of you have been quite the pair: the toddler son of a prostitute and the child-thief who protected him; a thug who could waltz and a whore who could kill; humanity’s strongest soldier and an officer’s mistress. And now, after years of separation: diamond and dust.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** the reader is involved in sex work, and there is also a very brief mention of grooming within this story, but neither are explicitly or graphically depicted here. The one sex scene does **not** involve either prostitution or grooming.

**8**

You were the second person to find Miss Ackerman’s corpse. 

You noticed the stench before anything else. As soon as the ripe odour hit your nose, smelling of something between rotting meat, shit, and cheap perfume, you _knew._ The bread and canned soup that you had worked so hard to steal for her fell to the ground, your attention fully on the figure in the bed. You couldn’t recognise her anymore: impossibly still, emaciated, and pallid. The body looked like Kuchel Ackerman, you thought, but it also didn’t look human. She had always been lively even her in fragility, all gentle smiles and porcelain skin. Staring at her sunken eyes and soiled sheets, all you could think about was the lovely smile she had given you when she first took you in, and how this corpse did not resemble her in the least.

In the corner of your eye, a shadow moved. You glanced back, and your breath stilled momentarily. 

Levi was the first to speak.

“I don’t know what to do.” He looked at you, brows drawn back, dried tear stains tracking through the dirt on his face. Even though he was alive, his eyes looked as sunken as his mother’s. 

Helplessly, you glanced back at the body one last time. You wanted badly for this to be a nightmare, to find yourself waking up into a world where Miss Ackerman was recovering from her illness and she and Levi were waiting patiently for you to bring back some food. 

But even at your young age, you knew that you could not pretend: fantasies got you nowhere in the Underground.

Smoothly, you picked up the bread and canned soup, and then you set the two down before Levi. His fingers were thin and cold in your hands, and as you rubbed your thumb along his bony knuckles, his small body trembled. 

“We survive.” You swallowed. “Even if we are alone.”

* * *

**15**

You had never trusted Kenny the way that Levi did. Not quite. Even though you were barely in your teens, you were practiced in reading the faces of men: a talent, the brothel owner often remarked, that you must have inherited from your mother and Miss Ackerman. Consequently, you knew the whole range of men that resided in the Underground, and you could spot a coward from a mile away.

When Kenny disappeared, you were not at all surprised. 

This time, Levi did not devolve into a squalid mess, but instead seemed insistent on keeping silent and sticking to routine, behaving as though he did not miss the absence of his mentor. Each morning, he woke up, trained, and cleaned your shared room, complaining about how much of a slob you were. At night, the two of you calmly ate whatever you had managed to steal during the day. Before you went out to work, he gave you a cleanly laundered dress and made a fuss of straightening out your hair. He humoured, with clear disdain, your request for him to choose one of the cheap perfumes you owned. 

“Must you make that face?” You mirrored his expression. “This is no way to treat a lady.”

He merely scowled, sniffing at you with visible disgust. 

“I can’t help it. That shit is awful. I don’t understand why you insist on wearing it; you smell fine without it.”

“Ohh! So you admit to smelling me and liking it?”

“Don’t get so flattered. All I’m saying is that you smell better than a toilet.”

 _“Jesus,_ don’t you have a way with words? No wonder you’ve never dated.”

The banter was always cutthroat, but you could tell that it was also in good humour. Levi had, unsurprisingly, turned out to be quite prickly and nothing like the friendly and shy boy you had met as a child, but you could tell that he was fond of you. It showed in his actions, in the way he always made your bed crisply and meticulously, in the way that he carefully ironed your clothes, in how he always pushed whatever vegetables the two of you could afford onto your plate. When you came back in the early morning, he insisted on wiping down your switchblade and inspecting it for rust even if it had gone unused. He always made sure that you bathed before you went to sleep. 

About a month after Kenny left, you came home earlier than usual. Even though it was in the dead of the night, Levi woke up immediately, throwing his sheets off and putting on his boots. 

“I had hoped that I wouldn’t wake you up. Sorry.” 

You winced as you walked inside, hoping that he wouldn’t notice your stilted gait. 

No such luck.

He scoffed, and even though it was too dark to see his face, you knew the exact expression he was wearing. “It was impossible to sleep with you stumbling around in the dark like that. Come here. Are you bleeding anywhere?” 

“Don’t bother.” You pushed away his hands, supporting yourself against the wall. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. I just need to sleep this off–”

“Not before I check out the damage. Anyway, you need to bathe first.” 

“God! You’re such a clean freak. Can’t give me a break, can you?” You sighed, half-frustrated and half-endeared. This time, when his hand came to rest on your shoulder, you allowed yourself to lean into him, body relaxing into the support. You were tired, so tired, and your muscles ached against him. “I’m too tired to bathe. And you don’t need to worry about wounds. It’s only bruising, I promise. You should have seen the guy when I was through with him, actually. He was worse off than me. I don’t think he expected me to be armed.”

You had to will your body not to flinch when Levi began to undress you, reminding yourself that his touch was nothing like the one that had just maimed you. He was clean, his body somehow devoid of the stench of the slums and of the pigs you let between your legs, his fingers bereft of the dirt that other men rubbed all over your skin. When the washcloth began to rub soap into your skin, you sighed and melted into his hands. You reached up behind you, blindly seeking his free hand. 

Even in the candlelight, with your arms wrapped around most of your torso, you knew that he’d be able to see the black marks spreading on your skin.

“A lot of bruising.”

“Yeah, but it’ll heal. I managed to get away pretty early on.”

“Tch. And you always complained when I insisted on teaching you self-defense.”

His fingers grasped yours, thumb rubbing your hand.

“Can you blame me? We can’t all be Ackermans, all right? Fighting is hardly my strength.”

“It’s not just Ackermans that become good in combat,” he argued. “Kenny’s not an Ackerman, but he’s the strongest man in the slums.”

The two of you paused. His fingers tightened around your hand.

Turning to meet his gaze, you tried to make out his expression in the darkness. For once, you couldn’t guess what it was.

Your teeth sank into your lips. “…how are you feeling? About that, I mean. Kenny.” 

A long pause. You deflated, knowing that Levi rarely bothered answering such questions.

But then— 

“I’m fine.”

 _“Really?”_ You couldn’t help the edge in your voice, somewhere between worried and frustrated. “Really? You’re fine?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, voice hard and half a whisper. “Kenny isn’t coming back. There’s nothing we can do. All we can do is survive.” A long pause, and at his next words, your heart prickled and ached for him: _“Even if we are alone."_

* * *

**16**

Your mother had died long before Miss Ackerman, and you had only fleeting memories of her touch and her smile. Consequently, you didn’t know very much about her, although you were certain that she had been a kind woman: after all, she had kept you around rather throwing you out in a dumpster, which was not an uncommon practice in the slums. The older you got and the keener your business sense grew, however, the more often the brothel owner began to comment on how much you resembled her.

"Between her an’ Kuchel, your mother was definitely the mo’ practical one.” He nodded. “Always had money on the mind, that one did. Knew which customers to court an’ which ones to ignore. If she had been raised to do maths and reading proper, she coulda run this place herself.” 

That made you pause. As a child, you had spent a fair amount of time lying awake in bed, thinking about what your mother must have been like, why she was dead, and reflecting on the general shittiness of being an orphan—all while trying to pry the sheets away from Levi, who was an insufferable blanket hog, and also while trying to ignore Kenny’s snoring from the other room. As with most Underground folk, the question that caused the most existential grief for you during these cold, uncomfortable moments was why the _fuck_ you were born into this hellhole. 

Hence, when the owner made the remark, you looked him dead in the eye and asked, “If she was so practical, why in God’s name did she have a _kid?_ "

He swallowed and seemed unsure of what to say.

“Oh, hell, you don’t have to be worried about hurting me. I’m a prostitute myself. I know she probably she tried to get rid of me, and I don’t fault her for it. But I am curious. Did she ever say anything to you?”

The owner had the decency to look down as he said this, shaking his head. 

“She wasn’t doin’ well when she was carrying you. Had one of the doctors come an’ look at her since she was one of my best ladies here, and he told her it would do well for her to keep ya. You’d have been ‘er sixth pregnancy, I think.”

You swore under your breath. “…good reason.”

“Right you are. But it wasn’t so bad, really. I hadn’t ever seen 'er really smile til the first day she held you. Made Kuchel realise she wanted to keep her kid, too.” He shook his head again. “That pair… the best mothers I’ve ever seen, I swear it.”

That made you fall into a deep silence, eyes boring into the ground. You wanted to run home to Levi and make a mess of his shirt by bawling all over it. 

Of course, you ended up doing exactly that, and at first with no explanation whatsoever. He had balked at you for getting snot and tears all over his good shirt, but he ended up rubbing your back and holding you until you stopped anyway.

* * *

**18**

As was routine, Levi had ironed your dress and cleaned your shoes. He turned around as you changed clothes, and then zipped up the back, his hands polite and unassuming. He turned you around, clicked his tongue at the stray strands of your hair, and told you tidy it up, grabbing one of your ribbons. The silk lace ran through his fingers, fine and gleaming, the colour of pearls. Your gaze chased it, still mesmerised by its luxury.  
“I still don’t know where on earth you got such a thing. I feel like some rich noblewoman from above ground.” You couldn’t help your giggle. “Does that make you my lord?” 

He ignored your latter comment, so used to your flirting that he didn’t falter. “Hardly. I don’t know what the hell it is that nobles do, but it’s definitely not smuggling or theft. There was a silk trader stupid enough to cut across the Underground City last week, probably trying to cut down on transportation costs. What a moron. Easy job, easy souvenir.”

He was otherwise silent as he brushed through your hair, carefully gathering it up so that he could lace the ribbon into it. Briefly, you recalled a memory from your childhood: watching Levi play with his mother’s ebony hair, shining and gorgeous in his little fingers, waving one of her hair ties in his other hand and insisting on learning on how to tie a braid. Miss Ackerman smiled, and even after all these years, you could remember every detail of your adoptive mother’s peaceful expressions.

After he was finished, you turned around, lips sloping gently. You weren’t prepared for the nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes, the subtle slackening of his jaw. For a moment, he stared at you, and you almost turned red, wondering whether he found you beautiful. But then, his expression nosedived, and he appeared almost disturbed. His face gave you the impression of a man who had just seen a ghost.

“Huh? What is it?” You tilted your head, smile becoming playful. “Oh, wait! Let me guess: dirt on my face?”

That snapped him out of it. 

“No.” He looked away. “For once, you’re properly put together.”

“Huh, thanks! That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in, like, a week. But only a week. Doesn’t quite top the time you said that my side of the room didn’t look like a dumpster.”

“Only barely,” he shot back. “Maybe there’s hope for you after all.” 

“Uh huh. You know, you’re really just enabling me. Why would I ever clean up with such a diligent housewife?” You grinned at him, and he rolled his eyes, too used to your strange sense of humour to take the bait. “Anyway, what’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, although he was obviously lying. You could tell from the way that his eyes kept flickering between your face and the floor that something was haunting him, something severe and most likely impossible to pry from his throat. “I just… remembered something.” 

A long pause. You took the moment to assess his work, self-consciously touching the ribbon in your hair, feeling the soft ridges of your fairly elaborate braid. 

The suggestion came suddenly, and even though you knew he had been thinking it for years, you had never expected him to voice it. You didn’t think he was sentimental enough to be (quite frankly) so foolish.

“You don’t have to do this anymore.” 

You had been thinking of your answer for years as well, ever since the day you first decided to step into the brothel and peel your clothes off in front of a man more than twice your age, ever since the day you were quite literally hurt from the inside in a rather permanent way. You had shrugged it off your whole life, thinking of the whole matter as unpleasant rather than tragic, but you still thought about it every day and every night, and sometimes even while you were being fucked.

“Yes, I do. Don’t be absurd.” You closed your eyes, not waiting for his response. “You know how it is for a woman in these parts. If she isn’t an especially talented fighter or thief, there are very few options. And obviously, I’m not as small and cut out for theft as I used to be.”

You weren’t expecting it when a hand grabbed your shoulder, fingers digging painfully into the flesh. He forced you to look back at him, glowering.

“I know. I know how it is for a woman in these parts.” He swallowed, and you nearly cringed, mind flashing back to the sight of him in his room, nearly as filthy as his mother’s corpse. “You know that I know very damn well about the few options, and what this work is like.”

You couldn’t blame him for the animosity in his tone. In his shoes, you supposed that you would have been the same, and in the future, you would yell at yourself for righteous tone of your comment. Still, he rarely ever spoke to you this way, and without even realising it, you were getting defensive.

“Then you understand why I’m doing this,” you replied, voice hard.

“No, I don’t,” he replied flatly. “What I understand is that it’s an easy way to die.” 

His grip tightened, and you suppressed a flinch.

“If I starve, I’ll also get sick and die.”

“You won’t starve,” he bit out, and his voice had a hard edge but also break that reminded you of the day he admitted that Kenny wouldn’t be coming back, that the two of you were alone again. And suddenly, his grip loosened, and all you could think about were gentle washcloths and the fragile hand of a lost child. “The jobs I’m getting aren’t half bad. I’m making decent money now, and in a few years—”

“Come on, Levi. The cash that I make is steady. People might not always want your hired muscle, but there will always be a market for fucking. The jobs that you take aren’t as stable.”

“That’s when I was younger,” he retorted. “I’m making a name for myself, and you know it. People will want to hire me for frequently—”

“Shit, Levi,” you sighed out, voice shaking with frustration. You’re not an idiot. You know it’s not secure work. What if your gang gets raided by the Military Police? What if you rub someone the wrong way and your boss decides that you shouldn’t get decent cuts anymore? What would we do then? Or worse: what if you get caught? _What if you get killed?_ What the fuck would I do then?“

He stared at you, gaze inscrutable, dead silent for a moment.

"I wouldn’t die.”

You couldn’t help it. You slapped at the hand on your shoulder, voice breaking as you shot back, “Everyone dies! They die or they _leave!”_

You knew had made a mistake when his mouth thinned and his eyes hardened, but you also didn’t care. His fists retreated into his pockets, and he didn’t even look back as he made his way to the door. 

“Don’t be stupid. I’m not leaving you.” The words were brusque, devoid of sentimentality and stated more like an obvious fact, as though he was saying that the two of you would never see the light of day, that your mothers were long dead, and that the two of you were alone, had always been alone. He had nothing more to say after that, instead making his point by slamming the door after his departure.

It was strange. The words had been curt and his voice had been cold, but your fingers lingered on your ribbon anyway, heart beating fast and eyes unbearably hot.

* * *

**18**

Sometimes, the men you saw—the sappier ones who tended to be from above ground and touring the poverty of the slums—would tell you that you were so young, that this life didn’t suit you. They would tell you you were too _good_ to be a whore, and tell you that you were silly for being one. They would tell you to respect yourself. You would smile and tell them that they were sweet, and then in your head, you wondered how many other teenaged, destitute girls they had fucked, paid, and then flattered in this way.

For all that Levi often agreed that this life was no good for you, he never called you stupid, never said that prostitutes were necessarily _bad._ You could tell that, for all the tearful, heated arguments that the two of you got into, he wasn’t telling you to stop for petty reasons. He wasn’t jealous, wasn’t judging you, wasn’t looking down on you with the grating paternalism of your more well-to-do customers. Having been born in a brothel himself, he was better than all of that. 

He was only worried. 

But you didn’t realise just how much it ate at him until one night, after Levi had recently come home with shitty pay and a harrowing injury—from a fucking _bullet_ of all things. After the initial shock of seeing of the red stain spreading across his shirt, you cleaned him up, lips thinned and eyes watering, while calmly resolving to increase the number of customers you’d be seeing in the coming weeks. After the two of you had figured, with the aid of a doctor, that his shoulder would heal up well enough, you stopped worrying. He would recover with time, and the both of you had enough saved up so that food wouldn’t be a problem in the meantime.

But he wasn’t able to work or do much else, and you supposed that you should have seen it coming when one morning, you came home to find him piss drunk. 

“Oh, God, Levi, seriously?” You pinched your nose. “Once you sober up, you’re going to hate yourself for smelling like this.”

“I smell fine,” he shot back.

“You spilled beer down the front of your shirt. You smell horrible, and you’ll know it in about two hours.” You undid his buttons, trying to be gentle and avoid touching his shoulder as you took off his shirt. You couldn’t help but wince when the white cotton slid away to reveal gauze, thinking back to the bullet wound you had been forced to dress a few days ago. “…but it’s okay. I’ll do a good job washing up your shirt for you. You just relax and go to bed.” 

“Can’t,” he breathed out. “Need to wash up.” He then grabbed one of your wrists, leaning in closely in order to study your features, close enough for you to feel his breath on your lips. You had seen him without a shirt before, but you couldn’t help but notice how close his bare skin was. You held your breath, unable to suss out his expression. Levi rarely ever got this drunk, and so you weren’t sure what was going to happen. You weren’t sure why, but something about the strange intensity of his gaze pulled at your heart strings in a painful-sweet way. 

After several moments, he blinked, then finally said: “You need to wash up, too.”

“Oh.” Of course. “Yeah, don’t worry. I will.” You smiled, trying to lead him to bed, but he only grabbed your wrist again, stopping you.

“…is something wrong?”

“I need to check you.”

“What?”

“You’re hurt,” he pointed out, slurring a bit. “You can’t hide it from me. I can tell.”

You frowned, surprised that he was so fucking perceptive even when sloshed. “It’s only some bruising, and it’s not important. Nobody assaulted me. One of my customers just went a little rough today.”

“It’s still _damage._ Let me check.” He stumbled forwards, putting his hands on your shoulders as if to shake you or undress you, but he did neither. Instead, Levi only looked at your face. He glanced down at your hair, noticing that you were using the ribbon that he had given you. Clumsily, he touched it, feeling the silk between his thumb and index finger. 

“…Levi?”

“I’m sorry.”

And Levi’s expression, normally so controlled and indifferent, entirely collapsed. He cast his eyes downward into your shoulder, his brow furrowed and teeth grinding together.

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking useless.”

“Oh, God, what? No, Levi, don’t say that.” You dropped his shirt so that you could cup his face and make him look at you. “You’re always looking out for me. You’re not useless at all.”

“I’m making you work more,” he argued, drunkenly stumbling through this words. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and you were so surprised by his behaviour that you didn’t even care. “I fucking… I fucking _hate_ that you have to do that kind of work. Shit, I hate it so much, you have no fucking clue.”

“Levi, I’m the one _doing_ that kind of work. Also, we argue about it every week. I have a clue.” You stroked a thumb across one of his cheek, and you tried to make him look at you. Your eyes softened once you caught a glimpse of his expression. “I know you’re drunk right now, but I really wish you would stop trying to make me quit.”

“It’s the worst job you could do,” he said, fully leaning down and putting his face into your shoulder. “You’re not bad with a knife. Once we get our hands on a gun, I’ll train you for that too. Could work with me. Shit, just do anything but this.”

“Come on, Levi. I can stab a drunk rapist, but that’s different from taking on an armed thug.”

“I’d train you.”

“Levi…” At the tone of your voice, impatient and exasperated, he paused.

“…the worst part is, I know _why_ you do it.” He laughed, one of his hands shifting to touch his injured arm. “When I got shot, all I could hear was your voice asking me what the fuck you would do if I died.”

Your breath hitched.

“Then you cried the whole time you dug that fucking bullet out my shoulder. Shit, I’m so sorry.”

“…”

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it? We’re this old, but we still—we still don’t know things like are we going to have food on the table tomorrow? Are we going to have beds to sleep in tonight?” One of his hands sought out yours, squeezing desperately, as though you would disappear the moment he let go. “I’m probably strong enough to kill anyone in this shithole of a city, but what does it matter?” His torso and voice trembled, and you couldn’t tell whether he was laughing or crying. “I still go to bed wondering if you’ll make it back to me the next morning.”

Regret cut into your chest, and you suddenly wanted to take back every heated word you had ever thrown at him during all your arguments. It only hit you now that you had been selfish this whole time.

“…Levi.”

He whispered your name into your shoulder, voice ridden with guilt. 

“I just don’t want you to leave me like she did.”

* * *

**20**

“I can’t believe I’ve found a gem like you in the Underground.”

“Oh, stop.” A giggle. “We’re already in bed; you don’t have to say those things.”

“I’m quite serious. I should be calling you my Diamond…” A hand came up in the darkness to brush at your hair. “You don’t belong in the Underground. You’re too lovely.”

“Are you going to take me upstairs, sir?” The sound of shifting blankets, a purposefully long moan as you stretched. “I’ve never been above ground, you know.” 

The sappy types always loved this, you thought, and he reeked of sappy: even if he had quite a few years on you, he was still relatively young, liked to hold hands, even liked to talk after fucking. Men like him loved the idea of playing hero to a broken bird from the slums, fragile and beautiful. You’d hardly call yourself broken and you’d hardly call any customer of yours a hero, but if it meant a bigger tip, you’d shed all the crocodile tears you could. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like… I know the sky is supposedly endless, but I can’t even imagine something like that. 

"God! I know I sound ludicrous, but I’ll take you. I’m not kidding.” A kiss to your hand. “You have me bewitched.”

 _You don’t sound ludicrous… just sort of cliche._ You smiled, hoping that it didn’t look patronising. “Good. The truth is… I always hate it when I have to leave you.”

The man beside you laughed. “I’m glad the feeling’s mutual.” He pressed his lips against your collarbone, his hands at your waist. “You know, when I see you, I feel like my engagement was a mistake.”

“Oh…?”

He chuckled.

“It feels like the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with is you.”

* * *

**20**

“…hey, Levi?”

_“What.”_

He winced as you wrapped the gauze around his wrist, clearly biting his lip. “…sorry. Didn’t mean to snap. It just…”

“I know. I know it hurts. I’ll try to be more careful.” You smiled at him, hoping that it looked more reassuring and less sad. As soon as you were finished, you moved one of your hands to his shoulder, squeezing gently. “You didn’t have to take on such a risky job, you know. The pay’s not worth it if you get hurt like this.” At his look, you relented slightly. “…but I really appreciate it. Thanks.”

His gaze seemed to linger on your face momentarily, but he looked away soon enough, expression unreadable. “…it’s fine. Anyway, what were you going to say?” 

“Have you ever thought about… y'know. Relationships?”

“What?” He grimaced as he inspected your work, checking his injured wrist. “Crap, I’m not going to be able to take any new jobs for a while…”

“That’s fine! We both know that I’m the breadwinner of this household,” you said, voice smug, and he rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, what the hell were you going on about? Relationships?” His voice was dry, although there was a perplexed and intrigued look in his eye.

“Yeah, you know! When two people really like each other, they start fucking exclusively, sometimes for the rest of their lives.”

He snorted. “I’ve never been in a relationship, but I’m fairly certain there’s more to it than that,” he pointed out dryly. “Anyway, why are you telling me this? Are you bringing someone home? Are they moving in?” His voice took on a weary tone. “Hey, they better not be a slob like you. I’m not cleaning up after their mess.”

You laughed, although you couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Levi hadn’t paused in the _least_ before suggesting that you might be bringing someone home, nor did the idea of you wanting a relationship with him even occur to him. But the emotion passed soon enough. The two of you had known each other forever, had lived and scrounged and survived for more than half your lives, and nothing had ever happened between you. Levi was the only man in this shithole of a city to be wholly uninterested in you, and you knew that wasn’t likely to change.

You had known this for a long time, but it had never bothered you until now. 

_It feels like the person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with is you._

“No, no. I’m not bringing anyone home. I’m hardly in a position to date.” You gestured to your heavy makeup and colourful dress, not having had the chance to peel either of them off since coming home. “But… I don’t know, I was talking with someone, and I guess I’ve always known that I’m not likely to marry anyone, but… it didn’t sink in until now. Most of the girls just don’t end up marrying, you know?”

That made him pause. The fingers on his wrist slackened, and he stared down between his feet.

“I know they don’t.” He went back to checking the wrappings on his wrist, although the both of you knew that you had done a good enough job with it. “It’s hard to manage that kind of job and raise a family.” _Or live long enough to raise a family,_ but neither of you said that aloud. Seeming to collect himself after a moment, he looked up at you. “Is that what you want? Find someone, settle down, retire? You can save up for it. I don’t mind helping.” 

“Wow, that’s quite the offer!” You grinned. “Does that mean you think I’d be a capable wife? Or mother?”

“Jesus, no. Your kids could _maybe_ just cut it, if I were around to help.” His mouth twisted. “Whichever poor sod you’re marrying is on their own, though.”

“Fine, fine, I get the hint. Marriage is not in the cards for me.” You stuck your tongue out at him, and he shook his head. “But seriously, have you never thought about that before? You’re an adult now, you know.”

You expected to be met with one of his typical, acerbic responses: _“What?”_ or _“God, no,”_ or maybe, _“What the hell are you going on about now?”_

But instead, he nodded slowly and stared at something on the wall. 

“Once or twice.”

“Really?!” You leaned forward, eyes wide and mouth open, momentarily too shocked to feel confused or even remotely jealous.

“Yeah.” 

“…and?!” 

“Then I stopped thinking about it.”

“…huh. Why?”

“There’s no point.” Levi was looking at you now, pokerfaced. “No chance in hell I’m having kids in this sewer, so a family is out of the question.”

“Yeah, but how about just having a partner?”

He scoffed, using his good hand to flick at your nose. “Are you kidding me? The minute I take my eyes off you, you always get into some kind of trouble. I’m hardly in a position to look for people either.”

“Hey! You’re the one who just came home with a banged up wrist! Don’t pretend that this is a one-way street!"

* * *

**22**

It was five in the morning, and he would slaughter you the moment he woke up and realised that you hadn’t bathed and changed into fresh clothing before sitting down on his bed, but you practically jumped on his sleeping form anyway, hands shaking his shoulders. "Levi!”

He shot up straight away, back stiff and muscles tense. Disoriented, one of his hands gripped you and shoved your body toward him, the other reaching for the gun beneath his pillow. 

_“What’s happened?!”_

“Oh god, nothing’s wrong!” You grabbed his wrist, trying to wake him up and snap his body out of habit. “Levi, Levi! Relax. I have good news.” 

He couldn’t look any less thrilled. He pushed you away, though the both of you were still sitting on his bed, and his hands still rested on your arms. Ignoring the proximity, he ran a hand through his hair and glowered. 

“This better be good. You better have come across a mountain of gold, or else killed a rich client and stolen all his money.”

“Well, kind of. I am sort of using a client, and he might as well be giving us a mountain of gold.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Yeah! So, I’ve been seeing an MP—”

He looked at your sharply, cutting you off immediately. “An MP? Why the _hell_ would you do that? Did it never occur to you that prostituting yourself to an MP is a surefire way to get arrested?”

“I’m not stupid, Levi. He checked out with the other girls and with the brothel owner. You know I’m good at what I do.” You rolled your eyes, unyielding to the pressure of his glare. “Anyway, listen. This guy happens to deal in the illegal trade of 3DMG, and he also happens to be especially taken with me. I have him wrapped around my finger, oh boy, he calls me his _Diamon_ —”

“Get to the point.

"Fine, fine! Wow, you’re cranky.”

“You woke me up in the _middle of the night._ ”

Grinning, you remarked, “You can afford to miss some beauty sleep, Levi; you look handsome enough.” He rolled his eyes at your usual teasing, unfazed. “Anyway, I mentioned to him that I know some guys who would be _real_ interested buyers, and that I’d love it if we could work out some kind of deal… Imagine that, Levi! Imagine what you could do with 3DMG! And I could get him to supply us gas, too, as long as I keep seeing him and stay on his good side… I know this sort of proposition sounds suspect, but I’ve been seeing him for a long time, and I think he’s interested in selling for real.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and you didn’t mind. You knew that the proposal was surprising, that there were many holes to consider: whether this was a trap, whether he would be even be able to learn to use 3DMG competently, whether it was worth attracting the attention of the military by parading around contraband gear. When he finally spoke, you didn’t expect that his thumb would be rubbing the cotton of your dress, nor did you expect the words that left his lips.

“Do you feel safe with him?”

“…huh?”

“You stay away for days when you see him. I expect you’ll have to stay even longer if you’re striking out this kind of deal with him. So, do you feel safe with him?”

“…well, I mean, I keep my guard up just as I would with any regular. Like I said, I’m good at my job, I wouldn’t get stupid.”

_“Do you feel safe?”_

_Why even ask me this?_ “Of course not.”

“Then there’s no deal.”

“Seriously?” You scowled. “Who cares whether or not I feel safe? We live in a fucking _sewer,_ Levi. Neither of our jobs are particularly safe.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want you doing this.”

“Why?! Every man who blows through that brothel is a shitty person! The only difference between fucking this MP and any other ashtray is that this one is useful for trade deals.” A wavering, frustrated sigh interrupted your words. “I’m just saying that you could really establish yourself with 3DMG! You wouldn’t need to work your way up in the ranks; you’d be able to run your own thing! You know it’s better for both of us, you know it, you aren’t stupid—”

He cut you off, your name hard on his tongue.

“No.”

“Please!” 

You rarely ever grabbed him so violently, rarely ever pulled him toward you the desperate way that you were now. “Levi, this is our _chance!_ We won’t be scraping by anymore if you take this deal. For the first time in our lives, we’ll be _okay!_ We’d be able to thrive, not worrying about this or that like what if your next job is a bust, or what if we get robbed, or what if, what if—” Your voice cracks, stutters along a brief and painful pause. “—what if I get _sick?_ ” 

The silence that followed was deafening. 

Under the absolute darkness of the Underground night, you couldn’t see Levi’s expressions, but you fully understood his feelings through his body. You knew this: that his fingers were gingerly ghosting your spine, that they were easing you into his body, that he was resting his forehead against your shoulder. He had only held you like this a handful of times since moving past the death of his mother: the first time you had been assaulted by a customer, once when he had nearly died on a job, and once when you had run such a high fever that he had to scrape up every last cent in your tiny home to buy you medicine. 

“I just don’t want us to have to leave each other,” you whispered into his ear, fingers gripping the cloth of his shirt. “I just want us to do more than survive.” 

He shifted, holding you more tightly.

“…I know. I’ll think about it."

* * *

**23**

You looked at the foreign door uncertainly, shifting uncomfortably beneath your cloak. Levi glanced back at you, tilting his head and lowering the key in his hand. "What’s the matter?”

“Nothing… It’s just that I’ve never met the guys that you work with before.”

“Yeah. I don’t want you knowing shady people.” 

_“I’m_ a shady person,” you pointed out, voice dry, “and so are you.”

“That’s different. First of all, I’m cleaner and more respectable than them—”

“So am I!” 

“—only because I live with you. Secondly, many of my 'associates’ throughout the years have had no sense of basic human decency.” He grimaced. “Can’t have you getting abducted or killed.”

You blinked. Levi’s rare declarations of his caring toward you were always frank and unceremonious, but they never failed to touch you. “Wow, that was… really sweet, actually. You get so murderous with me sometimes, I was starting to forget you don’t actually want me dead! Can you say things like that more often?”

He gave you a rather long-suffering look. “Not if you keep running your mouth like that.”

“Sorry.” You tried not to giggle. “Anyway, if your associates are so bad, why are we moving in with one of them?”

“Two reasons. One, Farlan’s not a bad guy. He doesn’t clean as thoroughly as I would like, but he has talent. With some training, he’ll surely—”

“Levi.”

“He’s also competent, and has good character. He’s the person who’s been using the second 3DMG set we procured.”

“Oh!” 

“Secondly, it’ll be easier for Farlan and myself to operate out of a shared space. We work late together, and people often want to discuss things with the both of us present. In an ideal world, I could move in with him and leave you to your own devices, but I don’t trust you to live by yourself. I’d have nightmares about you ending up dead within the week.”

You smiled. 

“You know, Levi, it’s fine to just say that you’d miss me."

* * *

**24**

The more that your MP customer began to lavish gifts upon you, the more complicated trips home were starting to become. You had to hide your outfits with the rattiest, dullest cloaks you could find and pray that you wouldn’t get mugged.

As with any other day, when you arrived home and shut the door behind you, you immediately peeled off your disguise and hung it up, knowing that Levi would scorn you if you stepped into his well-run establishment in something so dirty. You lived at the place, but it seemed that every time you returned home, Levi and Farlan were hosting someone new who would stare at your intrusion.

You couldn’t blame them, you supposed. The contrast between you and rest of the room was jarring: even though it was much more spacious and well-furnished than your last home, it was still humble and utilitarian, all muted colours of stone and wood. You stuck out like a sore thumb with your bright dresses, heels that weren’t fit for sewer water, and wide smiles.

The most shocking part for any onlooker, of course, was when you made a beeline for Levi and threw your arms around him, who frankly looked dour and only wore the type of expressions you’d expect from one of the most feared criminals in the Underground. 

"I’m home!”

Entirely used to this, Levi let you drape yourself across your shoulders without batting an eye, continuing to count bills. 

“Hey,” he greeted, voice nonchalant. He split the stack of bills and slid one of the sections to the boy sitting across the table from him. Turning his attention away from you, he looked at the younger male, who was trying his hardest not to stare at you. “This is your cut for today. Don’t waste it.” 

“R-right!” He was failing at keeping his eyes off you, and you took the opportunity to smile at him, curious. You had never seen him before.

“Hey, you’re new! What’s your name?”

Levi glanced between the two of you, then rolled his eyes. “I was serious when I told you not to waste it, Jan. She’s not interested.”

“O-of course, sir! I would never think about, uh, treating your woman wrong. I’ll get going now… thank you for the generous pay!”

“Don’t worry about it. Take care of that bad leg of yours.”

As soon as Jan bid the two of you goodbye and backed out the door, still deeply perplexed, Levi gave you a severe look. “You really have to stop acting like that in front of others and giving them the impression that we’re together. I’m not exactly a two-bit criminal anymore, and you’re not exactly easy to miss. One of these days, someone will get the idea into their heads that they’d make more money from threatening you than by working for me.” 

You frowned. “I can’t help it! I was gone for so long this time… I missed you!” 

Another voice piped up from the back. “Yeah. And you don’t have to worry! I’d protect her, big bro!” 

Grinning, you stepped away from Levi in order to greet the two others and hug Isabel. “Isabel! Farlan! How’ve you been?”

“Great! We just pulled in an amazing haul. The MPs tried to stop us, but they were no match for us!” Isabel pulled away to look at you, wide-eyed. “Wow, big sis! You look great. Did you see that rich police guy again?” 

“You bet! Milking him for all he’s worth.” You glanced between Farlan and Levi. “How are you guys doing for gas? He and his guys are thinking of selling again soon.”

“We’re fine, but we should buy anyway. Chances seem to be far and few between these days,” Farlan commented.

“Yeah.” You sat down, frowning. “Apparently the higher-ups have been cracking down on smuggling of military resources lately. As it stands, it’s getting harder for bandits to steal, and the MPs who are selling need to be more careful.”

“That explains things. Damn, that’ll be a pain, they’ll probably jack up the prices.”

“It’s not so bad, actually. It’s also risky to look for new buyers at a time like this, and we have a pretty good relationship with these guys. They might just choose to make do with whatever we offer.”

“Huh.” Farlan tilted his head. “You know, you’re pretty good at brokering deals. Maybe you should just be our representative. What do you think, Levi?” He grinned. “I think she’d get on a lot better with our male associates than you.”

“Absolutely not.”

 _“Ohoh!_ Are you jealous?” Your voice was teasing, but inwardly, you couldn’t help but carefully gauge for his reaction. Your small feelings for him were a nuisance and embarrassing, but you had never been able to quite shake them off over the years.

“It’s simply far too dangerous for you to be openly involved with us.”

“Hey! I don’t keep a knife on me for fashion. And I’m a damn good shot. Anyway, Isabel’s younger than me, and you’re fine with her working with you!” 

_“Isabel_ didn’t fly straight into a wall the first time she tried to use 3DMG.”

You cringed.

“It’s okay, big sis.” She put a hand on your shoulder. “I can teach you!” 

“Oh? Shouldn’t you be learning from her?” Levi raised a brow. “How are those maths lessons coming along, Isabel?”

Isabel coughed loudly, and you laughed, smiling at Levi’s mothering. 

It was nice, you thought. You cherished the years you had spent alone with Levi, but they were undeniably hard: when you left for the night to work, or whenever Levi was absent for a job, the other person would be left at home, utterly alone. Since moving in with Farlan and then taking in Isabel, things had gotten more lively. You no longer wondered about how Levi was getting on without you at home whenever you were off seeing a customer, and Levi often commented that he was no longer concerned that you’d make a mess of the place while he was gone. 

The three of them joked, and Levi even cracked a smile. You couldn’t help but mirror it.

For the first time in years, the two of you were no longer alone.

* * *

**24**

“Hey, Levi?” You finished up your mascara, then looked away from the mirror to glance at him.

“Hm?”

“Have you ever danced before?”

He looked at you like you had grown a second head. “What use would I have for something like that?” He sat up on his bed, raising an eyebrow at you. He inspected you briefly. “Come here.”

“Just a question,” you said, voice innocuous as you walked over to his half of the room. You sat down at the edge of his bed, and he resumed his old routine of cleaning up your hair and getting rid of the strays, grumbling about how you always did a crappy and messy job of it. He hadn’t done it in a while. The both of you had been so busy, and your respective jobs had finally started cutting brutally into your personal lives with each other. Indulging in the missed feeling, you closed your eyes.

He spoke as he worked. 

“I’ve never danced before, no. I’ve watched people at pubs. Actually, I’ve watched you dance at pubs, on occasion.”

“Ooh, didn’t know you admired me! Did you enjoy it?”

“Who knows. I was mostly concerned that you might trip and fall.”

“Wow!” You made a face, and he smirked a little bit, although you were certain that part of it was coming from a place of misplaced but genuine concern. “Anyway, I learned how to dance the other day. Real dancing, I mean. Ballroom. I think it’s the sort of thing I’d really enjoy doing with someone I actually liked.”

“That MP is really buttering you up, huh?”

“Yeah. Honestly, he creeps me out. Either way, I thought it was fun. I’d like to do it with someone I like,” you said, shameless.

He paused.

“I don’t know why I put up with you sometimes, but… All right.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. We have no music, but it’s just counting, right? One-two-three?”

“Yeah!” You stood up, holding out a hand.

“Right now?”

“Right now! I’m dressed for it.”

Rather than speaking, he only paused for a little bit before taking your hand. 

“I’m going to do the man’s role to start,” you told him. “Leading and all, you know.”

It started off slowly, with jerky moments. It was a little comical, really: you had never seen his body so clumsy and lost before. Still, the two of you managed through your tripping feet and his stiff, unsure moments. 

“We’re so awful,” you giggled between counting beats.

He scowled, clearly unused to struggling with physical tasks. “Just give me a second.”

“When we get better at this, we should get a record player or something. Or get Farlan to whistle a tune for us. I’d feel so fancy.” You smiled. “You know, you’d pull off the high class look really well. I think you’d look really good with a proper dress shirt, with a cravat and everything.” You played with his collar, tugging slightly at it and letting your fingers ghost over his collarbones. Most likely you were being wistful, but you swore that his breath hitched. “Yeah. You’d clean up well.”

Out of nowhere, he dipped you, smooth and confident, and you yelped. His sudden lead was strong, and his steps were now remarkably confident and on beat.

“What the hell? Is this your Ackerman control kicking in?”

“I suppose,” he drawled. “I guess it applies to dancing as much as it does to 3DMG.”

“Wow!” He spun you, and you giggled, your skirts flaring out. “I feel like a right lady!” 

As you stepped back into his arms, looking up at him, you noticed that he was wearing one of his fleeting smiles. 

All your life, ever since you found him in that brothel room, you’d be trying to get them out of him as much as possible. It had been hard throughout the years, the wall he had put up around him nearly impenetrable even to you, but it had been getting easier and easier as of late.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

* * *

**24**

“Hey, big sis?”

“Hmm?”

“This customer you have… the MP, the real rich one, does he actually like you?”

You hummed, looking up into the cavern ceiling. “No. Probably not. I think he fancies that I like him, and he loves that. But that’s all he enjoys. Well, I mean, that and the fucking.”

She went slightly pink, and you reminded yourself that she was still a bit of a kid, and that you should censor yourself around her.

“Okay! So you definitely don’t like him? I know he asks you to leave with him a lot… you don’t plan on leaving us, right?”

“God, no. I don’t trust a single pig who buys me.” You leaned in. “Let me tell you something: no man who buys women is a good one, even if they act it. They’re just looking for fantasy, and the minute that fantasy breaks and things get real—well, it gets ugly.”

“Huh…” She tilted her head, contemplating the idea. “I don’t think I’d ever do it, but I definitely thought about it once or twice, when I was on the streets.”

“Well, then, I’m glad that Levi found you.” You smiled. 

“Me too!” 

You smiled at her uncontrollabe affection for Levi. He had rescued her from the filth of the slums, and you knew that ever since then, she had been determined to take that chance and carve out a better life for all four of you. 

“…some day, Isabel, we’re going to be at the top of the food chain in this dirt hole.”

She beamed, nodding vigorously. “ _Yeah!_ I like the sound of that. I’ll be real strong and rich. That’ll show those slum bastards.” She batted at her one remaining pigtail, the other one having just been cut off.

You laughed, ruffling her hair. 

“Yeah! We’ll show all those bastards what we’re made of."

* * *

**24**

It hurt you. It elated you. The three of them had a chance at a better life above ground, at citizenship. You were glad that you had played a role in it, however small, in getting them to this point. That was enough for you, you told yourself.

 _But it hurt._ It hurt that you hadn’t been offered that deal, and for the first time in your life, you regretted your line of work.

"Levi… I don’t care if you leave me behind. I want you to go above ground and leave this filthy place.” You smiled, and even though your heart ached, your face was carefully disciplined into excitement, joy, love. It wasn’t that difficult, as another, less selfish and damned part of you truly felt all of that. “I can take care of myself. And it’s not like it’d be goodbye _forever,_ or something dramatic like that. We could split the stairway toll… I’d visit you. You could show me what the world is like up top.” You grabbed his hands, squeezing.

He had always been able to see through you.

“Stop.”

“Huh?”

“Stop.”

His grip firmed, and it was only then that you realised that your arms were shaking, that your lips were trembling.

Levi pulled you toward him, looking down at you, expression strange. You didn’t quite know when he had last looked at something so gently, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted. In fact, you didn’t quite know if he had _ever_ looked at anyone this way. 

“I’m taking you with me. You’ll be a citizen.”

The facade broke. Your eyebrows knotted up, and your mouth would not resume its smile. “Levi… you know that’s almost impossible.”

“There are options,” he argued. “I could work up there, build a life and save up to buy you citizenship.”

When you did finally smile, it was bitter. 

“The amount of money it takes to buy someone citizenship is ludicrous. We’d both be so old by the time you managed it.” _You’ll have moved on from me, and it would be for the better._ “It’s not worth it.”

“I’ll do it.” 

“Levi! Please… be realistic.”

“Fine. Then I’ll marry you.”

The words were so nonchalant, so flatly declared, that it took several moments to register. When they did, you weren’t sure that you had heard him right. 

“…what?”

“I’ll marry you,” he repeated, once again sounding like he was making a remark about the weather, and he looked at you so steadily that you knew he wasn’t joking. “Once my citizenship has been processed, obviously. You’d automatically be considered a citizen after that.”

You pulled back, looking at him wide-eyed.

“You can’t be serious.”

He arched a brow. “Is the thought of getting married to me so unsettling that you’d give up a chance at citizenship? If you aren’t interested in me, it could just be a formality. A long-term transaction, if you will. You wouldn’t have to be with me in practice.”

“But you’re not interested in _me!”_ you cried, and even you were surprised at your sudden outburst, at the way your voice shook and trembled. “Levi, I don’t want to marry you as a business transaction! It’d just make me a prostitute, and you’re the _one_ person I don’t want to sell myself to! You wouldn’t be able to undo a marriage without sending me back into the Underground; you wouldn’t be able to find an _actual_ wife! I’d, I'd—” You squeezed your eyes shut, and it was only then, when a wetness began to slide down your cheeks, that you realised that you were crying. “I’d rather live down here forever.” 

His grip on your arms firmed, but not painfully. Instead, his thumb began to rub circles into one of your arms, and he bent down, trying to find the expressions on your lowered face.

“Who said,” he began, voice soft, “that I wasn’t interested in you?” 

Your breathing calmed, and you blinked away your tears. A moment passed, your sniffing punctuating the silence.

“You wouldn’t be my prostitute. You’d be my wife, if you’d want it that way.” He paused. “That’s what I’d want.” 

You looked at him, red-eyed and wiping at your nose, doubtful.

“You’ve never looked at me that way.”

“You’ve never _seen_ me looking at you that way.”

“You’ve never said anything!” 

“Neither have you.” 

“You said you never cared for marriage!” 

“Tch, you still remember that? I wasn’t going to propose to you on the spot.”

_“Why would you like me?”_

“Why would _you_ like _me?_ ” He paused, looking away. “Actually, the question I should be asking is why _wouldn’t_ I like you. We’ve always been together. We’ve always protected each other. And I told you,” he said, and you knew he was talking about that one argument the two of you had, years and years ago when he had put that beautiful silk into your hair and looked at you like he had seen the ghost of his mother, “that I don’t have the intention of ever leaving you.” He glanced back at you. “I couldn’t imagine marrying anyone else. It always made sense to me to suggest this at some point.”

Your brows furrowed, and you sniffed again. “Because it’s _convenient?_ ”

“Because I have feelings for you. Don’t be dense.”

Another long pause. You thought about it: a life with Levi on the surface, the sort of dream life that Undergrounders laughed at. He would no longer be a criminal, and you would no longer be a prostitute. You could have a domestic and small life beneath the sun, perhaps in a spacious house. The day-to-day wouldn’t change so much, you thought. He’d probably still train each morning, spend an inordinate amount of time cleaning, insist on doing the laundry so that the clothes would match his standards. You’d still cook and joke and try to get under his skin. Isabel and Farlan would be neighbours, and the four of you would still have dinners and drink together. You imagined kissing Levi on the cheek every morning before he left for work, awash in sunlight. You thought of kissing him on the lips at night before the two of you settled into bed together, starlight pouring in through the windows.

It was surreal, _but you wanted it so badly._

“All right.” You straightened up, wiping tears from your face. “I never expected this to happen, but you’re right. This just makes sense.” 

“Good. Then it’s settled.” He nodded, his voice matter-of-fact. “We’ll get married, and we’ll have a life above ground.”

_“Together.”_

“Yes.”

Levi’s smiles were small and rare, but they were always beautiful.

* * *

**24**

“Hey?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you never do anything? With me, I mean? It’s not like I wasn’t flirting with you every other minute.”

“Your shitty jokes hardly counted for flirting.”

"Wrong on both counts! They were good jokes, and they definitely did.” You flicked his shoulder while making a face, although you eventually rested your head atop it as well. “…anyway, why not?” 

“I had my reasons.”

“You’re not allowed to say that! That’s a cop-out!” you whined into his ear.

“Tch, you’re insufferable.” Turning around, he grabbed you by the shoulders and slapped one of his hands over your mouth, leaving you giggling into his palm. 

“Tell me!” you demanded, voice muffled by his hand. 

Sighing, he relented, moving his hand from your mouth to brush your hair instead. 

“…do you remember what it was like when you first started working? At the brothel? The one where we grew up, I mean.”

“Huh?” Your jaw went slack. You hadn’t expected him to lead with a question like that. “Well, it was ages ago and I definitely try not to think about it. If I really needed to, I could probably give you a detailed account after sitting on it.”

“Don’t.” His eyebrows knotted up, and he leaned down until your foreheads were touching. “I don’t think either of us need that. Jesus, I hated that place. I never wanted to go back.”

“…I know. I didn’t either.”

“…but we had to. Because there weren’t many other options for us, and on top of yourself, you had to worry about me. Shit, those first few years we were alone, I was so fucking _useless…_ ”

“Don’t say that, Levi. You know very well that I would have ended up back there with or without you.” You grimaced. “Not many options, remember? And we were just kids. I couldn’t have survived alone.”

“I don’t know if I could have either,” he admitted, putting his arms firmly around you. “But that first night you came back… you were so quiet, and so _ill._ All I could think about was how I wanted to give you a life where you’d never have to do that again. I know it makes no sense, but I just made up my mind right then that it wouldn’t be right to ask you until I could that for you.”

You leaned over him so that you could touch his face.

“So…” you began, voice almost sly despite the flush in your cheeks. “Does that mean you’ve actually liked me since we were kids?”

“Just about,” he said in his typical, matter-of-fact way. “I told you: it’s always made sense to me to ask you to marry me.”

“Huh. You stared into space. "I’ve liked you for a long time. You know you really didn’t have to do something like that for me before asking.”

“I didn’t,” he said, “but I wanted to. That’s just how I feel toward you.”

It took you several moments to understand your feelings in the wake of those words, to detangle your thoughts. You couldn’t process the painful and lovely swelling in your chest, didn’t know where to start between, _I always knew you were a softie, but I never expected this,_ and _I never thought anyone would ever want to give me something so big,_ and _I love you so much, God I love you so much._

You settled for, “I’ve always wanted to give you better than this life, too.”

He put his lips next to your ear, smiling as he whispered.

_“You already have.”_

* * *

**24**

You were lying next to him, both of you on your sides, your faces nearly touching, one of his hands on your waist. It was comfortable. The two of you had, funnily enough, often slept together like this as kids, and then sometimes as teenagers during the nights when you had almost lost each other. His breath on your lips felt familiar, and his hand on your body felt right.

You had thought about this an embarrassing number of times during those moments: about closing the infinitesimally distance between you, about touching his lips to yours, about what his body might feel like pressed against you.

“…I’ve never done this before.”

He snorted, ruining the moment a little bit. “That’s a lie.”

“I mean it!” You went red. “I mean, I’ve kissed and had sex a bunch— _err,_ not that we have to have sex, if you don’t want to—”

“I want to,” he said flatly, looking at you like you were a little stupid. “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about it.”

“Huh..?” You had figured this much since he declared his feelings, but that didn’t make you any less flustered right now. “Oh! But you were always so polite…”

His groan sounded absolutely tortured. “ _Shit,_ you have no idea how hard it was for me holding back. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, but… holding you… and then giving you those baths… you were _naked,_ for Chrissakes.” He closed his eyes, letting a strained breath out. “You have no fucking clue.”

You giggled. “Remember when we were 17, after you had started packing on muscle, and I walked in on you changing?”

His lip quirked. “Yeah, I do. You were so red.” 

“Can you blame me? Never been so turned on in my life.”

He raised a brow, clearly disbelieving. “Really?”

“I swear.” 

The two of you went silent. You gaze returned to his lips, then flickered to his eyes. 

“I was serious, you know. I really haven’t done this before,” you whispered, eyes half-shut. “Kissed someone I liked, I mean.”

“…me neither.” 

“Nervous?”

“No.”

He was the one to close the gap.

That night, you kissed him for the first time, let him touch you for the first time, felt him inside you for the first time. As you lay beneath him, naked and self-conscious and thoroughly flushed for the first time in your life, he had looked down at you, fingers on your jaw, gaze ridden with lust and affection and something deeper than both. The moment after he slid into you, his lips never left your body once, always on your neck or breast or mouth, like the moment would end if he stopped kissing you. 

You had wondered, multiple times in the past, as soon as you realised that you would love him for the rest of your life no matter how hard to tried to push away your feelings, whether doing this with him might be awkward, might give you second thoughts. But it was perfect. It was a natural progression from all the hand-holding, the soft touches, the tight embraces that the two of you had always loved each other with, even before either of you had realised that you loved each other at all.

Your bodies made sense together.

 _You_ made sense together.

* * *

**24**

It had been weeks since the three of them left. For you, it was business as usual, although you had culled the number of customers that you were seeing, knowing that you would soon be leaving anyway. You only saw the ones that tipped well, and mostly that meant spending your nights with your MP client-suitor.

He had changed over the years. These days, he would openly patronise you, calling you simple-minded or a slum rat. He no longer bothered to hide the fact that he often hired girls on the nights that you were not with him, although he still reassured you that he didn’t love any of them the way that he loved you.

Part of you was surprised that he was still seeing you, but another part of you had almost expected his strange and unsettling obsession with you. You knew exactly what was happening. You understood what Wolff _thought_ he had done to you. You had seen it happen with some of the other girls and their older boyfriends or pimps: men who practically raised them from girlhood to love them. You were lucky, you thought, not to have fallen victim to the con. Often, while lying beside Wolff in the darkness, still stiff as a board next to him even after all these years, you mused that you may have very well ended up one of those girls had it not been for Levi.

“You’re quite of age, now,” Wolff often said to you these days. “I’m quite serious about buying you citizenship. I’d marry you eventually, and keep you living somewhere separate from the family estate.” He leaned in, pecking you on the nose. “It would be a good life for you.”

Smiling, you replied, “Yes, I would very much like to be a citizen someday.”

Oblivious to the truth, Wolff laughed delightedly. “Then how much longer will you keep me waiting?” 

“Mmm. Not too long, I promise. I plan to see the light of day soon.” Smiling, you thought about how Levi and the others were doing. “Say, speaking of being up top… did you hear about those three Underground thugs who were muscled into joining the military?”

Wolff raised his eyebrows.

“Huh! Yes, I heard about those poor bastards.” He looked at you, eyes cunning and curious. “They were rather skilled with 3DMG, and had been running about unchecked for quite some time. Were they your trade contacts? The timeline with their activity just about matched up to our deals.”

“They were. Steady business, weren’t they?” You hoped that you sounded nonchalant. “I wonder if they’ll come back again. Do you ever know what became of them..?”

He clicked his tongue. He said the next words unceremoniously, checking his teeth in the mirror on the nightstand, dirty nails picking at stuck food. 

“I heard that they got killed. Titans got to them. Not surprising, really. They were untrained and didn’t stand a chance.”

* * *

**24**

You didn’t know how long you had spent crying and screaming into his pillow, trying to catch his lingering scent, unable to imagine a life without it. You didn’t care that you were hungry, or that you hadn’t washed up and changed into fresh clothes. Not taking care of yourself was strangely comforting: it felt as though he would walk through the door at any moment, sharply telling you to clean up and stop making a mess of his bed. It felt as though he would tell you off, and then hold you close, fingers stroking your back. The two of you would take a bath together with him wiping away your tears the whole time, and he’d hold you tight against him, stroking your hair and replying dryly that yes, he’d buy you a diamond fucking ring to make up for all the worrying he caused you.

* * *

**24**

It took you some time to come to your senses, but perhaps not as much as it would have for a regular person. 

You and Levi had been together for so long that you had forgotten what it meant to be alone as an individual as opposed to a pair. Still, a part of you—the part of you that had always been convinced that everyone either leaves or dies, the part of you that was birthed the day that you found Miss Ackerman’s decaying body, the part of you that grew a little harder and colder every time Levi came home with a snapped wrist or a bullet in his shoulder—seemed to function well enough on your new definition of _alone._

Your whole life, you had prioritised survival so strongly that you were now capable of making sound decisions without thinking. Even though your heart was still crying itself dry between Levi’s sheets, your body knew what the next logical choice should be, and it acted accordingly.

Later, you would hate yourself for it.

After days of not eating, you went out and nicked a can of soup and a loaf of bread. You ate them on the floor of your room, and then you went to see Wolff.

Knowing that he was lying through his teeth, you agreed to marry him.

 _We survive,_ you remember Levi telling you. _Even if we are alone._

* * *

**24**

After returning from the nightmare outside the walls, Levi spent some time sitting in his room, trying to forget the bodies of his best friends. No matter how hard he tried, he could not forget the stare that Isabel’s head had given him, the painful goodbye that Farlan had bid him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed before he could notice things outside his waking nightmare.

That very moment he snapped out of it, he went out and bought the fattest fucking diamond he could find. He took a regiment horse, and then he rode to Wall Sina at breakneck pace.

* * *

**24**

He had spent some time thinking about what to say to you, how to say it. He had to tell you that the plan had failed, that he had instead joined the Scouts. He had to tell you that Isabel and Farlan were gone and that you’d never see Isabel’s smile again or hear the two of them bickering. They’d never see the two of you married. 

He had to tell you that he would never leave you, and that he needed to hear from your mouth that you would never leave him.

What he didn’t steel himself for was the emptiness of your shared room. 

He waited for some time, clock taunting him into the early morning. He checked your closet, noted that all your belongings were still there besides one of your most colourful dresses. (He still did most of the laundry, and knew every single outfit you owned.) He noted that there was a layer of dust that had settled over the furniture, but then again, the Underground was full of dirt, and not much time had necessarily passed. He dusted everything off and prepared a bath for whenever you’d return home, certain that you’d be coming back. He had developed a certain, uncanny intuition about when you’d be returning over the years. 

He polished the ring, and thought of ways to properly propose.

Come the next day, when the bath water had long since gone cold, he decided to look for you. He searched the markets that the two of you frequented. He looked at the spot where Isabel had released her sparrow into the sky. He asked the Stairway Guards about you. He went to that nightmare of a brothel, the one that haunted him in his dreams, and asked the manager about whether he’d seen you. 

“She passed through some days ago, 'bout to see one of her ‘nonymous clients.”

He scowled. “No clue who it is? I need to find her. Damn girl loses track of time so easily.”

“Sorry, but I ‘aven’t got a _clue._ ” 

The brothel owner paused, looking uncertain. 

“Son…”

He narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“S 'ard for a working girl. You never know with the customers. Some of them are quite… Temperamental. She wouldn’t be the first…”

 _“She knows how to defend herself,”_ Levi hissed, hating himself for the way that his blood ran cold. 

He combed every street and alley of the Underground over the next week, going home at just about the time in the morning that you would typically return. He kept the place tidy. 

When he realised that he was in the middle of washing your clean dress for the third time in a row, he knew he had to stop.

Before he left, he ran his finger across the night table, disturbing a thick layer of dust that temporarily clouded the candlelight, and then dispersed into the darkness.

For the first time since you had taken his hand and gently led him out of his deceased mother’s room, Levi was truly alone.

You had gone into the dust.

* * *

**_End Part I_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for getting through all that! I hope everyone enjoyed it. This took me quite a while to write, so comments/kudos would mean a ton to me, and will also help me gauge interest in a part 2. You can also find this on [Lunaescence](http://www.lunaescence.com/fics/viewstory.php?sid=39464&warning=Adult) and [Tumblr](https://phen0l.tumblr.com/post/164281646983/dust-diamonds-part-i-levireader), if you prefer to interact there.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Follows the events of the Uprising Arc, so be warned for spoilers. There is a scene (Levi’s speech) that is based directly on[Ch. 56.](http://kissmanga.com/Manga/Shingeki-no-Kyojin/Episode-056?id=326171#20)** Also, warning for **domestic abuse** (not involving Levi), and, like, a lot of angst.

**25**

You were always so warm.

Sliding into his crisp sheets at the end of a long day was a routine that Levi treasured. Ever since Wall Maria had fallen, he was often too busy to clean as much as he would have liked, so he had carefully taught you how to properly do the laundry, with a particular focus on the sheets. You had rolled your eyes throughout the whole training process— _yeah, yeah, I know, I've lived with you for 17 years so I think I know how to do this_ —but had learned well enough anyway. The role reversal, with you doing most of the cleaning and him being out and about the most, was odd at first, but it soon became comfortable. He would wake up early in the morning to deal with military affairs, while you rolled out of bed at noon to do some housework and then go into town for your waitressing job. You'd come back rather late, but with the sort of hours that Levi worked, you were occasionally in bed before him anyway.

"Mmm." You smiled, pressing your back against his form. He put an arm around you, and you reached down to grab his hand. "Missed you."

He kissed the back of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Always get so bored waiting for you to come home," you yawned.

"Tch. You have to make more friends."

"Uh huh. Says the least social man on the planet. How are you getting along with the others?"

"Well enough. They aren't a liability, at least."

"Wow." He knew you were raising your eyebrows. "Well, can't force someone into making friends, I suppose."

"It's hardly my fault. They still think I'm a sewer rat." His lip quirked into a wry little smile. "Caught one of them saying the cravat is pretentious."

"What! I love it!" you objected. "It suits you. And you look so... Sophisticated!"

He smirked, couldn't help but feel endeared. You were the one who suggested that he tried wearing one in the first place, after all. "I know you do. And I know it does."

"...I really should stop complimenting you. You're getting bigheaded."

"Like you'd quit your shitty flirting at this point."

You giggled a bit, but it was weaker than usual. After a moment, it stuttered, then faded off. He frowned, always able to tell whenever something was bothering you.

"...so, how are the Titans?"

 _Of course,_ he thought. You often worried about his well-being outside the walls. This was another role reversal, one that was much less pleasant: you constantly badgering him about his job, and him feeling guilty about it.

"Same as ever. Let's not talk about it."

"Hmm... All right."

"How's the bar?"

"Good. I like the work. I get tipped really well.” He felt you lift up one his hands to peck it. “You should visit sometime!"

He snorted. "I've visited before, and I'm not going back. That place is filthy."

You laughed, and he found himself smiling into your hair. _Shit,_ when did he get so soft? But he couldn't help it. Ever since he could remember, your laughter had been one of his favourite sounds, always reminding him that living wasn't as tiring as it felt. He had grown up listening to it. He wanted to grow old listening to it, until the end of his days.

"You gotta live a little, Levi,” you giggled.

"I can live well enough away from that pigsty."

He expected you to shoot back some witty retort, but instead, you paused.

"...I don't mean just the bar. I mean in general." You shifted, turning around so that you could face him and kiss his jaw. He looked down at you, and something in his chest _ached_ at the look in your eyes, at how they seemed to waver in the moonlight with a sadness he had never seen before. "You have to let go of the past. No regrets, remember?"

His hold around your waist tightened as he came to his senses.

"I don't regret anything."

"Levi..."

He used his free hand to grasp one of yours, thumb running over the jewel on your ring.

"Don't use that tone," he replied. " _Don't—_ "

But it didn't matter. It _never_ mattered.

His eyes opened, his fingers clawing at his sheets.

The bed was cold beside him, and his arms were empty.

 _Right,_ he thought, staring blankly at his ceiling. He hadn't ended up taking you above ground. He had never married you. You had never gotten the chance to see the moon before you died.

No wonder that part of his dream had seemed so wrong.

* * *

**25**

The world up top, you had learned over the past year, was beautiful. The sunlight that had been so fleeting in the Underground was warm in a way that was different from fire or blankets, and you couldn't stop soaking in it. The chirping of morning birds was irritating as hell, but also wonderful. The Wolff Estate, which you sometimes visited, was full of skies and fields so vast that you could hardly fathom it. The stars were breathtaking, and you looked at them every night, sometimes talking to them. They were your only companions these days.

Of course, there was Wolff, and although talking with him was often good enough distraction from your solitude, it also made for some of the loneliest moments. Wolff liked elegant women, so most of your personality was out the window. Your wardrobe was entirely selected by him, so you were stuck in incredibly beautiful but restrictive dresses. You were only allowed to leave the house in his presence, as he kept a lock on the inside, so you had no freedom. (Even though you could pick the lock to let yourself look around, you didn’t dare to draw attention to yourself by making friends.) He didn't often let you socialise, so your only human contact was with the other MPs who sometimes came around to smoke and drink with him.

The worst moments were when he stayed the night with you rather than going back to his family's rural estate. During these nights, Wolff kissed your body up and down, leaving you impossibly cold.

"My Diamond," he breathed. "I really made the right decision bringing you up here."

_Sure. And you made the right decision never marrying me or giving me citizenship. I'd be out the door otherwise, and your lonely ass knows it._

He kissed your neck. It was only through practice that you didn't flinch.

"Nobody knows me the way you do."

Your lips curved up.

"Of course, Johann."

You couldn’t remember the last time you had genuinely smiled.

* * *

**25**

Tonight, Wolff was not staying at his townhouse, so as was typical of his absences, you were suffering a bout of insomnia. You had given up on sleeping hours ago, now instead stargazing. Playing with the ribbon you had brought along from the Underground, you took note of the constellations and where they had shifted since the last time you did this. Studying the night sky brought you a strange comfort: it was stupid, but you liked to pretend Levi was looking back at you from above, somewhere among those diamonds.

He'd snort at the sentiment, but it was one of the few things that gave you solace.

Because alone without him was hard. _Alone,_ trapped in your thoughts, wore you down. _Alone_ meant being out of tears, body wrung out and dry. _Alone_ meant purposelessness. Perhaps that was why you still weren't over his death, why you clung to those stars. You _needed_ to imagine that, somehow, the part of you that hadn't let go was still holding onto _something_ , rather than nothing at all.

"Isn't it fucked up, Levi?" You ran your fingers over the silk ribbon. "I have all the food in the world, I have a mattress that's like a marshmallow with these fancy silk sheets, and I no longer worry about dying—but I'm fucking _miserable."_ You put your head down, staring into space. "Did you see this coming? Because I sure as hell didn't."

These self-pitying moments never lasted too long, though. All you had to do was think about what he'd say—

_"What the hell are you going on about now? Complaining isn't going to help anyone; this isn't like you. ...look, I know it's shitty, but we'll get through this. I promise. That's the only thing we can do. Come here."_

—and then you'd straighten up, feeling a little bit more like the person you used to be.

* * *

**26**

"How does it feel to be Team Leader?"

"Fine. Not so different." The ale was watery as fuck, but even this run-down bar in Stohess was better than anything in the Underground. Levi's expression remained impassive.

"Then you have no reservations?"

"Of course I do," he replied without a beat. "Surely as Commander, you would understand."

Erwin smiled, looking bitter for a moment. It had been two years, and even though Levi trusted the man's judgment, he could never truly get a read on him. Commander Erwin Smith talked often about the plight of humanity, and over time, Levi had come to understand the cause, but he couldn't help but wonder whether the man's stoic expression hid some other motivation.

Levi supposed that he should learn to reign in his sharp tongue and insubordinate curiosity, but the Underground hadn't been stomped out of him quite yet. Luckily, Erwin seemed not to care at all.

"Good answer. No gamble ever comes without them."

Yells broke out from behind them. Levi glanced back at the rowdy officers, eyes narrowed. Back home, he would have chewed each and every one of them out for being so bloody annoying.

Picking up on his irritation, Erwin asked, "Not one for drinking?"

"Absolutely not. And I can tell that you aren't, either."

Erwin gave a little smile, raising his mug. "Well, then we're both doing a good job humouring our men."

Nodding his head, Levi wryly mimicked the action. He knew his place within the Survey Corps, presently: people respected his skill, but they didn't understand his personality and were hesitant about his new leadership. If he were to be in command of a team, he'd need to actively appeal to the soldiers under his care for now, even if it meant wasting his time in a filthy pub.

Part of him hated it, especially since Kenny had only ever raised him to intimidate and extort. It had been tough, especially during his first year with the Corps, but every time he thought of snapping, it was like he could hear your and Farlan's voices in the back of his head...

_"Sometimes the better way to get something you want is to look pretty and tell them what they want to hear. That's how I put bacon on the table, you know."_

_"Hey, Levi, calm down. The guy's a prick, but let me talk to him. Trust me."_

He tried to turn his mind away from the thoughts, taking another draught. When he slammed the mug back on the table, the noise was muted, drowned out by a high-pitched scream from behind. Several of the soldiers stiffened right away, their reflexes trained to react to cries of distress, but Levi was the quickest to jump to his feet. He _knew_ that kind of scream.

 _You must be fucking kidding me,_ he thought, looking at how one of the youngest soldiers was grabbing some barmaid's wrist. She was white was a sheet, pleading for him to let go. Across the table, another soldier—Cadet Petra Ral, if he recalled correctly—seemed to be reprimanding the offending soldier, but with little success.

Levi stalked over, grabbing the boy's wrist and squeezing hard. He looked at him with his usual expression, which he fully knew was a glower that made people shit bricks. All three parties seemed to freeze in his presence, but he ignored Petra and the barmaid, looking only at the boy he was accosting.

"Stop bothering the woman."

"H-huh?" The boy was red-faced, barely functional.

 _Shit._ He wanted to slap a hand on his face. _If I knew I was going to have to fucking babysit…_

The kid finally let go of the poor woman's hand, but he kept protesting anyway. "S'fine, Team Leader!" he insisted, stumbling over his words. "She's, she's just a working girl. I know it. My mate's bought her before!"

Levi's eyes flickered over to the barmaid. She kept looking between them, terrified, and even though he tried his best not to think of you too much these days, he couldn't help but wonder if you had ever made that kind of expression when you were her age. He sure as hell knew that, however much she tried to hide it from him, his mother certainly had.

He turned back to the other male, expression unwavering.

"Doesn't matter who she is, brat. She isn't interested." He let go of the kid's hand. _"Don't embarrass the Corps."_

"S-sir!"

He didn’t linger on the matter after that, letting the kid’s wrist drop and going back to take his seat with the Commander. It left his waking mind entirely, but he should have known it’d come back to bite him in the ass while he slept. Things that reminded him of you often did.

That night, he had an old nightmare that had been haunting him since he was fourteen.

It always began the same way: you were dressed up, and sometimes your hair was braided with that ribbon he had stolen for you. He fixed you up like always, chiding you for your unkempt appearance even though he found you beautiful. As you stepped out the door, you told him that you'd be back in the early morning, bidding him good night.

But you never came back. Your body turned up in the streets weeks later, lying flat on its back, emaciated and pallid. He knew that he should bury you, or at least move you out of the house, but he couldn’t bring himself to do either. Instead, he sat on the floor, forgetting to eat and sleep.

He woke up in his old bed in that shitty little room the two of you had shared for years, cold sweat lining his temple and heart rate through the roof. One of his hands was being held, a thumb rubbing his fist gently. He recognised the touch, and even though he couldn't see anything in the complete darkness of the Underground, he realised that it was you, that you were alive and well and that he had just been dreaming. "It's all right, Levi," you told him, smiling in that way he cherished so much. "I'm here. Whatever you saw, it was just a nightmare."

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, his breathing was normal and his expression was the same as always. "I'm fine," he stated flatly, seeming irritated, but his fist broke apart so that his fingers could close around yours. He would rather die than admit it out loud, but he would have panicked if you hadn't been there. Every time he had this nightmare, you seemed to notice and wake him up, and he appreciated that.

Levi let you hold his hand for a while, silent as you rambled on about a new potential job for him that a client had mentioned. Your voice calmed him, and soon, his eyelids were drooping. He tried to think of a way to subtly ask you to sleep in his bed, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep without knowing that you were there.

—and then he felt wide awake. Something seemed off about your voice, and how the candlelight flickered unnaturally. 

A sudden anxiety seized his heart, and he realised that something was terribly wrong.

He woke up again, greeted by the ceiling of his room. Sunlight was pouring in through the windows, and he was alone.

* * *

**27**

Wolff had changed over the years, in terms of both social position and personality. His relationship with his father, Baron Wolff, was finally improving, and he seemed poised for inheritance. At work, he was climbing the ladder, even getting appointed to a new division of the Military Police Brigade: the Interior Squad.

"The one closest to King Fritz," Wolff told you. "I'm going places, darling. Places my father could never even imagine."

His new confidence translated into treating you better and doting on you more. When the Interior MPs had their first social function, Wolff had, somewhat confusingly, elected to bring you and not his wife. You were, he reminded you on the way, the one whom he loved and wanted his friends to know. You beamed at him, even though you figured that it was because you were close to ten years younger than his wife and looked better on his arm.

And so, you mingled with his new comrades, flitting about with Wolff. The crowd was a bit different from the usual MPs, more keen and cutthroat, but you adapted well enough.

But even you were rendered speechless by his new Captain.

It had been over eleven years. He had facial hair and permanent frown lines now, but you would recognise Kenny the Ripper no matter how much time passed.

"Captain Ackerman." Wolff saluted, and you were a little surprised by the grave respect in his expression. "This is my girl."

Ackerman? you thought. What the hell is happening?

"Not my wife, you know," Wolff added. "But she's the one who's got my heart."

"Huh." The Captain looked at you, face unreadable. He nodded at you, polite, then chatted idly with Wolff before departing. You couldn't tell whether he recognised you.

Of course, you should have known that the man who was cunning enough to kill one hundred MPs would have a good enough memory to remember one of the brats he raised. Later, while Wolff was red-faced with drink, Kenny Ackerman paused behind you, leaning down to whisper, "Well, ain't ya a sight for sore eyes?"

That was your cue to disappear with him. The Interior Squad MPs were wrapped up in their merriment, and Wolff didn't even notice it when you slipped away.

Kenny was waiting for you outside, the cicadas chirping noisily around him. The sound was still foreign to your Underground ears, and they irritated your already strained nerves. When he offered you his flask, you took it without hesitation.

"Cheers."

You could see him studying you carefully as you knocked it back eagerly, drinking the way he had taught you and Levi. _Thank fucking god,_ you thought. You couldn’t remember the last time you had drunk so freely. It was a welcome break from the way you had to delicately taste each wine you had been given while on Wolff's arm, making up bullshit comments about bouquet or flavour the whole way through.

Of course, Kenny had picked up on that. “Knew you still had some Underground in ya. Good job foolin’ Wolff, though, you got him wrapped ‘round your pretty little finger.”

“You always did tell me to put what was between my ears and my legs to good use,” you remarked, handing him back his flask.

"Good student,” he snorted. “Didn’t think you’d be so good that you’d leave the kid to become someone else’s mistress full-time, though. Never thought you two would leave each other. Christ, you kids stuck to each other like glue. Thought for sure you'd be married with little brats of your own by now."

"...didn't work out that way."

"I can see that." Kenny hummed, studying you with interest. "But I can't blame ya. This is a step up from that sewer." He eyed you thoughtfully. "And you were always cunning, weren't ya? Levi was a prickly little bastard, but I could tell that push come to shove, you were the smarter one. And colder."

Cold was a strange description for you, but retrospectively, you could see it. After all, it had been cold of you to immediately leave the Underground in the wake of Levi’s death. You didn't like to admit it, but it often felt these days like that cold and hard part of you was the only bit that remained. That might have explained your current impassivity around Kenny.

"I suppose." You turned to face him, arms crossed. "But nevermind that. Ackerman, huh?"

"Surprised?" He grinned, and the expression was as nasty as you remembered.

" _Very._ Were you his father?"

"Lord, no. _Uncle._ "

"Hm." You paused. “Doesn't make you any less scummy for leaving."

He laughed so loudly that you were afraid that someone would notice, so loudly that you were afraid you'd steal his knife and _stab_ him.

"You really fucked him up, leaving him." Your voice was steady: these were not accusations, but statements. "You knew it would, but you did it anyway."

His laughter died down into chuckles. "I'da fucked him up if I'd stayed." He tilted his head. "And why are you complaining? Ya never liked your good Uncle Kenny anyway."

"You could tell?"

"Little lady, I've seen plenty of people look down on me, and plenty of people who hate me. You were one of _both._ " There was that toothy fucking grin again. But then his expression dropped, taking on a more curious look. "Where is that brat, though? Maybe you were a cold enough bitch t' leave him, but he'd have never left _you._ "

Your heart clenched. You had never said these words out loud to anyone, and they were laced with an emotionality that you thought had died the day you left the Underground.

"I didn't _leave_ him. He's... dead."

Kenny looked shocked for a moment, and you wondered if he had a heart after all. But as it turned out, he was not on the verge of mourning. Instead, he looked at you as though you were stupid.

"The hell are ya smoking? He ain't dead. He's one of those stupid Survey Corps bastards now. Humanity's strongest. That's what they call 'im."

You were certain that you had heard everything wrong.

_"...what?"_

He raised an eyebrow. "He's _alive._ How many ways do I gotta say it?"

"Bullshit,” you bit back. “He was sent out to join the Survey Corps with Isabel and Farlan. It was two years ago. No one made it back alive."

"Isabel and Farlan, huh?" Kenny sighed, looking away if trying to recall something. "Yeah, he came up top with two other gutter rats. He was the only one to return from their second expedition outside the walls. The kid survived and rose through the ranks. Not a soldier who don't know him."

You eyed him carefully. His breathing was even, and his face showed no sign of amusement, only perplexity. He wasn't kidding.

"...you have no reason to lie," you stated after a pause.

"Not a damn one."

You still couldn't wrap your mind around it, not quite, but you ran through the logical extensions anyway.

"...so he must be living with the Survey Corps. That's not in Mitras; it's stationed right at Wall Rose... Where did they move it? Near Trost? If I stole a horse now—"

" _Whoa!_ Whoa, whoa." Kenny held up a hand, then came sauntering toward you to lean in close. "Didn't I ever teach you kids anything?"

You couldn't help yourself. "How to run away from human connections?" you said dryly, and he paused, looking at you curiously.

Then, all of a sudden—

_Bang!_

Before you had time to process anything, he had made a fist and used it to strike the wall beside you. The sound rung in your ears, muted by the pounding of your own heart. You couldn't breathe. He paraded that terrible grin of his in the moonlight, delighting in your fear.

"Always too damn smart for your own good," he chuckled. "Maybe ya took after your Uncle Kenny some ways."

Your lips stayed pressed together, thin and pale. He smiled, seeming satisfied enough to resume his lecture.

" _Think_ about your position," he started, leaning in. "Think about it _real careful,_ because it makes all the difference in a fight. Look, little lady: you're whoring yourself to some noble: fan-fucking-tastic! And he's an MP: even better! But that means the minute you try to run away, darlin', you're good as _dead._ You don't have citizenship. You don't have _shit._ Wolff could kill you three times over, and no one would blink an eye."

"I know," you replied smartly. "I'm not stupid. I've stayed with him all these years for a reason."

Kenny's lip quirked up a little. "But now ya think it'll be fine to make a break for it, right? 'cause Levi is in the Survey Corps?"

"Am I wrong?"

The smile on his face took on a strange, almost manic hue.

"There are things ya don't know about, little lady. Ya ever wonder why most of the Ackermans were in the slums? It's 'cause above ground, we're _persecuted._ By the royals and the aristocrats. Levi's a soldier, but he's still an Ackerman. _Baron_ Wolff could have him beheaded."

 _Bullshit,_ you wanted to say, but you knew that testing Kenny's patience a second time that night would do no good. Instead, you took a moment to consider his words. His story wasn't entirely out there, you supposed. Whenever Levi had asked why his mother had chosen to move to the Underground, she would reply that life above ground was no good for any Ackerman. You hummed, putting together the pieces.

"But _you're_ Wolff's superior. You couldn't protect Levi?" _I know you're not an entirely heartless bastard. Maybe._

"Huh." Kenny seemed surprised by the suggestion. "To be frank, I don't give a rat's ass about what happens to you or that kid. But before ya go judgin' me for that, try thinking about my position, too. I'm also an Ackerman. My cooperation with the Crown is part of the reason why the kid _isn't_ being hunted down right now. If I act out against a noble—who knows what'll happen t' either of us?"

* * *

**26**

It took some time for you to process Kenny’s words. Over the next few days, you behaved normally around your ‘husband’: kissing him affectionately, doing the dishes, airing the laundry, continuing to play house with Wolff while your thoughts simmered in the back of your mind. 

But after he left for the Estate and his real family, when you were alone with your own thoughts, you crept out of bed to look at the sky, and you could not hold back your tears. You clutched your ribbon close to your heart, and for the first time in two years, you _sobbed._

* * *

**27**

Levi observed carefully as Petra worked with his squad to combat the mock Titans. Just as he’d suspected, her skillset complemented his team, and she seemed to work particularly well with Oluo.

"I'm excited to join," she told him by the end of the day, beaming.

His mouth quirked.

"Are you certain? The Special Operations Squad is hardly low risk. It won't be like being on Ness' team."

Her back straightened, and she saluted beautifully.

" _Sir!_ I am prepared to dedicate my heart to humanity, and to risk my life to fight the Titans!"

_Not bad._

“Well, then, welcome to Squad Levi.”

It was funny. Her words hadn’t been too far off from ones that he had caught himself thinking lately. If he had known three years ago that he'd be concerned with such nonsense, he'd have _laughed,_ but really, he wasn't so surprised at the development. Survival had always been at the top of his list, and after witnessing _their_ deaths—Isabel's, Farlan's, his other comrades’—he understood the fragile state of survival that humanity was in. And above all, he understood that he owed their memory a certain debt.

As he watched Petra join the rest of his team, the four of them joking loudly together, he remembered you and Isabel and Farlan, and how all of you used to do the same with him. He had smiled much more back then; hell, he couldn’t remember if he had smiled _at all_ since the three of you died. 

But maybe, he thought as he looked at his squad, he could piece together some kind of happiness again. It would never be the same, but it would be good enough.

* * *

**27**

Knowing that he was alive made things difficult.

Wolff was often affectionate with you these days, but there were still nights when he'd come to the townhouse utterly drunk. These nights were the worst, the ones where your flight-or-flight instincts begged you to make a break for it, citizenship be damned. You had handled drunkards and rapists many times, of course, but you couldn't fight back against Wolff, couldn't stab him, couldn't run home to Levi.

And in the past, when you thought that Levi was dead, that had been fine. But knowing that he was out there somewhere made you desperate to go to him, made it agonising to stay. You knew that circumstances must be different for Levi now, that he had maybe even forgotten about you, but you couldn't stop imagining that he would take you in, help you wash up, chastise you for the injuries, hold your hand.

You were so desperate that you one day _snapped._

"No one understands,” Wolff muttered, “the pressure. My father says that I can’t live up to the blood, _but he’s wrong!_ I’d be better than him, than all of them, those filthy aristocrats. I wouldn't be so cruel, you know... but it's so hard." He rounded on you. "It'd all be for you _Eldians._ Even though you're all sheep. I'm good that way."

He often got like this while drunk. You wondered whether alcohol made him delusional.

"Johann..." you said, but it only made him snarl. 

"You don't know! Just sheep, like the rest of them!"

You felt so tired. You just didn't care anymore.

_...could steal a horse and ride... How many hours? Doesn't matter. Lord, who knows if I can figure out how to ride a horse, though... Well, I’ll manage._

You stood, making a move for the door. He had seemed so weighed down, slouching on the bed, that you didn't expect him to bolt to the exit and slam it shut. His fist pounded the wood beside you, and you suddenly became acutely and awfully aware, for the first time, just how strong Wolff was.

" _Where,_ " he snarled, "do you think you're going?"

You looked at him, unimpressed despite the show of intimidation. He'd been rough with you in bed before, and it was unpleasant, but you'd live.

"Out."

"You don't have a key."

"I'll take it."

"No, you won't. You aren't leaving."

You looked at him, eyes calm, nonchalant. He stared for a moment, then tilted his head, seeming to realise that his hold on you wasn't as strong as he'd always thought. You knew Wolff quite well at this point, of course, and could see the wheels turning in his mind. When he next opened his mouth, he had completely changed tactics, and you were shocked into submission in a way that a beating could never have done.

"You have nowhere to go. Isabel Magnolia and Farlan Church are dead."

You froze.

"I lied about Levi. That gutter rat is alive, but _oh,_ don't think he's safe."

You had to say something. You _knew_ you had to say something. You had to feign confusion: _Who are they?_ or _Aren't they all dead?_ or _Them? Those criminals? Why are you bringing them up?_ But stupidly, you only watched him, eyes wide, breath held. He gauged your reaction, eyes more intelligent than you'd ever seen them, and then laughed.

"Are you confused?"

Your lips stayed tightly shut even as he sauntered up to you, leaning down. The vodka on his breath made you want to hurl.

"You said all their names, but you said _Levi's_ the most. Even when you were sleeping beside me in that sewer. Even now, when you sleep beside me in my _own damn home._ " He held his face in one of his hands, shaking his head, smiling bitterly. "I give you the fucking _world._ You're my fucking _diamond._ You're the one you understands me _best_ —and yet... and yet you want that _criminal._ "

Sweat cold and body stiff, you hardly moved when he sunk to his knees, embracing your midsection.

"I take you above ground. I shower you with gifts. I make sure you're comfortable. I show you _the sun_."

His grip tightened. You couldn't breathe.

_"What the hell does he have that I don't?"_

* * *

**27**

For the first time in your years of knowing him, he struck you. He cried the whole time, asking you what he lacked. He told you that he needed you. He told you that he wouldn't let you go. He told you that he loved you, and when you woke up the next morning, body aching, you told him that you loved him too.

* * *

**28**

It was one of those nights where he couldn't sleep. He supposed that many soldiers were probably wide awake tonight after that nightmarish mission in Shiganshina, but his insomnia had been an ongoing issue his whole life. In the Underground, he'd always had your breathing on the other side of the room (and later on, your side of the bed) to lull him to sleep, but for the past few years, he only had late night walks and tea. 

But his tea had gone cold, and he didn’t feel like taking a walk.

He found himself sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating a variety of things: all the soldiers who had died for the sake of humanity, the complete trust his squad had in him, the last two people who had allowed him to lead them, and his former life in the slums.

Of course, that inevitably led him back to one thing, one _person._

He opened the drawer of his nightstand, taking out the ring that he still couldn't bring himself to pawn away, thinking about the one regret he couldn't shake even after all these years.

He knew it was stupid, but he'd probably keep it for the rest of his life.

* * *

**28**

Of course, you didn't _really_ love Johann. It just... made sense to stay. Made sense to be with him, placate him, act like he had broken you in.

It wasn't like you wasted the time. Every time he came home drunk, you tried to take note of what he was rambling about, _especially_ when bloodlines and clans came up. Originally, your speculation was a way to pass the time, but once or twice, he had mentioned the Ackermans, and this was when you started taking his ranting more seriously. The more you eavesdropped on the Interior MPs, the more you grew convinced that the aristocratic families held something _big_ over the Ackermans. You needed to be careful. You needed to know more before trying to leave.

"Well, you know the Reiss family have been rather reclusive lately," one of Wolff's comrades said, pausing to cough. "Haven't seen Frieda Reiss in years, not since Uri was still alive... Kenny says not to wonder about it, but it's a mite suspicious to me.”

"Sannes dodges it too." There was contemplative humming, coupled with the sound of a card deck being shuffled. "Seven each?"

"Yeah. Say, Wolff, your father's involved with that lot, ain't he? Any clue what's going on?"

"Bits and pieces. The aristocrat patriarchs all tend to keep that business quiet, though. Maybe when I inherit the Baron title, I'll fill you all in."

"Hah! Noble bastard."

"And you're drinking my noble bastard wine, Keller." He paused. "While dealing horribly. I've got eight."

"And you gave me six."

"Bollocks." Keller laughed. "Speaking of Kenny, he's quite a man, ain't he? Keeps talking about turning the world upside its head... Full o' shit, I'd normally say, he's been workin' for those royal bastards for years."

"Not at all surprised that he's plotting against them, though. He's an Ackerman."

"Enemy of the nobles, eh? What surprises me more is that you're int'rested in followin' his lead."

A laugh. "Well, I have no love for my father. And if you ask me, what I know of the noble families is appalling. You wouldn't believe the secrets, the corruption... I'll change things when I'm properly Baron Wolff, though."

"Huh! Must be bloody stressful. Don't know how you handle it."

"It's not easy, Keller."

"But it sounds like you get quite a bit of support from your woman, hm? She's wonderful, that one."

"Yeah! Bloody good catch. She's right smitten with you."

Johann chuckled. "Well, I don't take her for granted," he said affectionately. You grimaced. In your first years above ground, you couldn't quite wrap your head around the black-and-whiteness of his treatment of you: controlling and wrathful on one hand, dependent and loving on the other. These days, although you hated to admit it, you were closer to understanding him. It bothered you, and you didn't want to hear about how much he loved you.

Sighing, you knocked on the door, knowing that you wouldn't get any more useful information out of eavesdropping anyway.

As soon as you opened the door, you were hit by the stench of drink and tobacco. You approached the table through pipe and cigarette smoke, tray in hand, smile lovely.

"Snacks, boys? 

"God, you're wonderful. Come here."

You leaned down, allowing Johann to peck you. You had no urge to flinch.

Maybe, in a world where you hadn't been protected and loved by Levi your whole life, where you didn't have Isabel or Farlan, where you didn't have the motherly affection of Miss Ackerman, you would have accepted Johann's temperamental feelings. But as you walked out the room, you fingered the bruise on your arm, and you imagined Levi's careful touch as he cared for your injuries. Those memories were the ones that kept you from falling into Johann's infatuation. You knew that it was weak to rely on the past, but you found it hard to trust your own self these days. It often felt like your own person had left you, leaving nothing but dust.

And maybe that was why your sole purpose in life became collecting information on the Ackermans, your only joy to imagine your life from years ago. These were the only reprieves you had from your existence. And so, you carried on, waiting and listening patiently.

Eventually, your 'husband' finally let slip that he kept the Wolff family history and keepsakes in the townhouse, away from his family, and you started to take note of his schedule with obsessive detail, determining the best time to pick the lock to his study and rifle through his papers.

It took some time, but your past as a tricksy gutter rat paid off eventually. When you found the memoirs of good ol' Grandpappy Wolff, you were astonished by what you read.

* * *

**28**

"I'd like to learn to hunt," you said one day, smiling as you put away the dishes.

"Oh?" Johann looked at you, curious.

"It's something I've always thought about doing it. And I know you must be good. You and the boys do it all the time, and it just sounds so fun."

"Hm." Johann stared out the window, contemplative. "You've always been a strange one, haven't you?"

"And you love me for it, darling."

"Not a lie. Well, I suppose a few trips out the forest won't hurt." He kissed your forehead. "Anything for my Diamond."

The next day, you went out back and shot some ducks, watching them fall out of the sky one by one. Johann stared at you, surprised, and even though you faked confusion and giddiness, it wasn't so shocking.

You had always been a good shot.

* * *

**30**

Historia was a kid and, were he in her shoes, Levi would also be terrified of the idea of suddenly taking the throne. As things were, though, she had no other choice, and if she wanted to live, if _any_ of them wanted to live, she would have to do it.

As he held her, neck small and expression terrified, he didn't feel guilty. As her body fell to the floor, trembling, he didn't feel guilty. As Jean yelled at him, accusing him of going too far, he didn't feel guilty. They'd thank him later, he knew.

"What do you see yourselves doing tomorrow?" he asked, voice hard. The words came to him naturally: he had said the first iteration of this speech when he was eighteen and drunk and crying into your shoulder, the second version when he was twenty-four and Farlan was hesitating from getting his hands dirty, and this would be the third time at the age of thirty, monologue polished and trim. "Will you have food on your tables? Do you think you'll get a good night's rest in your beds? Will those around you still be there tomorrow?"

He remembered all the faces: Nanaba, Mike, Petra, Oluo, Gunther, Eld, Isabel, Farlan, you... and of course, his mother. He knew that, try as he might, that list would only get longer as he got older.

"I never think so. And I doubt normal people think about these things on a daily basis... so that means I'm abnormal, probably because I've seen too many abnormal things..."

He thought of his mother's body, of all the bruises that you brought home with you in the morning, of all the wounds you had to clean up on his body. He thought of how skinny the two of you had been, how you had doggedly survived each and every day, living on scraps, living in filth.

"But if Wall Rose were breached tomorrow and we faced an emergency, I'd be faster than any of you to react and fight. I'd fight, even if I had to face the hell again tomorrow." He paused, noting the startled reflection in their eyes. "You've all seen some terrible things too, and there might very well be more waiting for you tomorrow."

He thought of the Titans. He thought of all the men who had died around him, some under his command, some whom he had failed, some whom Erwin had sent to the slaughter.

He'd be _damned_ if he let these kids join them.

* * *

**30**

You ended up dawdling for some time. Some _years,_ to be exact. You wondered why from time to time, but you tried not to linger too long on the thought. You knew you wouldn't like the answer.

Eventually, despite your doubts, you were forced to move your hand.

Your back to the wall, you stood outside the crack of the door, listening in on the officers as they played cards and smoked.

"Humanity's strongest, hm?" Keller laughed. "Do you think we can really take him down, Wolff?"

You felt your blood run cold. You had grown used to the smell of tobacco, of cigarette smoke stinging your eyes, but you had never wanted to vomit any more than you did now.

"The Survey Corps are strong," Johann conceded, "but the Interior Squad was made to handle them. Don't you worry, Keller."

Your expression was blank as you stared at the wall, entrenched in shadows like the rest of the cellar. The darkness did not scare you. It reminded you of the Underground, and of your resolve.

 _I always did want to kill you,_ you thought, staring into those shadows and touching your black and blue ribs. _Guess I might as well get two birds with one stone._

It would be hard. You would probably die, you realised and understood right then. You wouldn't feel Levi's embrace again, wouldn't be able to hold him or kiss him or see that smile you loved so much. You didn't care, though. Finally, as you assessed your plans and realised how suicidal they were, you admitted to yourself that the girl who had clung so desperately to survival was gone, and that you were tired of the emptiness that she had left behind.

You knew that Levi most likely had moved on. You _hoped_ that he had, that he was happy, that he was living well and loved. Your life, you decided, was worth trading for his happiness.

* * *

**30**

Levi had such shitty sleeping habits that, even though they were on the run without proper beds right now, he was resting well enough. As usual, he was falling in and out of sleep in a chair, pondering what their next move would be now that Reeves was dead: how they'd track down Eren and Historia, what consequences Erwin would face since they had failed their play, and most importantly: how he could ensure the safety of his squad, now composed of a bunch of scarred yet naive kids from the 104th who didn't want to become murderers. All of them were outside, trying to collect themselves in his absence.

That left the two of you alone.

"There's no other choice." He knew that you understood what he was talking about. "They have to learn to deal with it."

"They're fifteen, Levi. Cut them some slack." He felt your presence as you shifted toward him, standing behind his chair. Your fingers ran through his hair, and he felt his chest relaxing a bit. "Remember what we were like when we were that age? We hardly wanted to kill, either. We didn't want to do half the things we did."

"But we did it," he stated. "We did _everything._ And we did it to survive. _They_ need to do it to survive. I have to make them understand that."

The both of you paused. With you at his side, talking about your youths, he couldn't help but consider his past life in the Underground. At this point, he had left it all behind for grander and more frightening battles. No matter how old he got or how many Titans he killed, though, the small and hard struggles the two of you had shared all those years ago would never leave him. He'd never regret them, but they'd always haunt him.

"Come here," he said, fully knowing that he was being haunted that very moment.

You walked around the chair, and he straightened up as you sat in his lap. He felt your breathing slow as he wrapped his arms around you, as you rested your head atop his. You gave a little sigh, and it was subtle, but he caught the sadness in it.

"When did I die again, Levi?"

He knew that had been coming.

"We were 24," He replied calmly. "It's been 6 years... and don't you fucking lecture me. I know it's stupid that I'm having a dream about you while we're trying to overthrow the monarchy." He glanced at you, then made a face. "Don't you look at me like that. I'll sort my priorities when I'm awake and willing."

"Yeah, yeah, I know this isn't anything to worry about. You just always dream about me when you're stressed." You winked. "Miss me, hmm?"

 _You don't even know,_ he thought, and his heart ached, the feeling caged inside him with nowhere to go. Outwardly, he only rolled his eyes, grumbling back, "Don't get cocky." Still, he held you tight, savoured the warmth of your body and the sound of your beating heart. He briefly enjoyed the fleeting memory of your giggle, knowing that his dream was about to take a familiar turn.

"...you have to let go, Levi." You always said the same thing every time, your face awash in moonlight, wearing an expression you had never worn while you were alive. "No regrets, remember?"

He closed his eyes.

"It's fine. You can't force moving on." He had dreamt about his mother for a straight five years after her death, and even now still from time to time. Isabel and Farlan also liked to haunt him in his sleep, albeit less often than you. These days, he most frequently saw his old squad, Petra, Oluo, Gunther, and Eld all as alive and loyal as they had been the day they'd died.

The answer didn't seem to satisfy you, though.

"But I want you to be happy."

He looked at you, gaze finally softening.

"I'm doing fine these days."

You watched him carefully, and he wondered briefly how this ghost of you would reply, what kind of unsettling wisdom you'd impart. He should have expected it when, instead, your expression changed from mourning to incredulous.

"...you're a fucking _fugitive_ , Levi. You're not fine."

He looked at you dryly. "Do you need to be this sassy even in my fucking dreams?"

"Most definitely." You smiled. "Now wake the fuck up. You have important things to do. Go protect your friends."

* * *

**30**

Sneaking into Johann's workplace wasn't difficult. A good number of the MPs knew you as his dedicated and charming woman, and didn't think much of you visiting him. You distracted them with homemade pastries, then slipped off to the Ladies' room.

Of course, you actually headed for the other direction and picked the lock to Erwin Smith's room.

He raised his head, paused when he saw you. From his expression, he knew immediately that you were an oddity: you were dressed up as the perfect housewife today and couldn't look any further from an MP.

But you did not sound like a housewife.

"Commander Erwin Smith, correct?" you asked, voice hard.

"...yes." He tilted his head. "And to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

You told him your name, then added, "I'm the mistress of Officer Johann Wolff. You are familiar with the Wolff family, correct?"

"Of course."

"Good. Then I won't have to explain how I know this all."

Face calm and voice steady, you told him everything you knew: that the Reiss family was capable of altering the memories of most men, but not certain bloodlines; that most of these bloodlines were complicit in the brainwashing and had become aristocrats, except for the Ackermans and the Asian Clan, hence their persecution; that Levi and the other branch of his family were only safe because of an Ackerman dog that guarded the true royal family, the Reiss household.

Rather than looking at you as though you were a crackpot, Erwin watched you with a fervent intensity, and you knew he was brewing with questions for which you had no time.

"There's more," you soldiered on. "The Interior Squad has been developing anti-personnel 3DMG. Think of it as regular gear, but with guns."

His expression hardened. You could see his mind racing, drawing the extensions, making inferences.

"This intel is invaluable..." The commander narrowed his eyes, studying you carefully. "You'd get jailed for it. Executed, maybe. If I turned you in, it may give me some credit with the court."

"I know." 

Erwin seemed intrigued by your composure.

"Then why do this?"

"Are you wondering whether this is a trick?"

"Partly.”

You smiled, reaching for your ponytail. As you pulled out the silk ribbon, still as bright as the day that it had been given to you, your hair spilled onto your shoulders.

"I know this must seem strange since I'm the mistress of an MP, but I'm hardly loyal to the brigade."

You paused, knowing that wouldn't be enough.

"You could run a background check on me. I'm not a citizen, so you wouldn't be able to find records, but... I'd check out with one of your soldiers, Levi Ackerman. If you tell him my name, he'll know who I am." You paused, unwilling to part with your keepsake, but holding it out to the man anyway. "...if he doesn't believe that I am who I say, show him this. He'll know."

"Is that why you're doing this? For him? Or is it because you believe in the Survey Corps cause?"

You smiled wryly. "Honestly, I don't understand the Corps. You're a rather suicidal bunch." Your eyes softened. "...but I do care about Levi. Enough to gamble my own survival for him."

Erwin hummed, staring at you thoughtfully.

"A gamble, hm?"

* * *

**30**

Over the next few days, you made arrangements. You had found out, approximately, the route that the MPs would be taking through the Mitras. You knew where Kenny had figured that Levi and his men would be making their move. In the midst of such an important operation, Johann paid no attention to his hunting equipment or his mistress who liked to pick locks, and so, over the course of several days, you scoped out a tower that was in the general vicinity but apparently not an optimal enough location to be manned, and put there four hunting rifles and some ammunition. You bought a pair of trousers: the first sensible piece of clothing you owned since moving in with Johann.

He'd find out that his items and coin had been stolen eventually, but you didn't care. You'd be long dead by then.

* * *

**30**

When the day of reckoning came, you were fully prepared. You waited in your abandoned tower, a nondescript cloak hiding your form and face, four fully-loaded rifles at your side. You caught glimpse of a few Survey Corps soldiers, positioned exactly as Kenny had predicted. _Smart bastard,_ you thought.

When the coffins carrying Eren Jaeger and Historia Reiss rounded the corner, you straightened up, knowing it was the Interior Squad's cue to act. You flinched when the first gunshots went off, your eyes struggling to keep up with the quick succession of battle: the way that the Survey Corps scattered as the MPs ambushed them, how most of the fugitives could outmaneuver the officers and dodge the bullets. They seemed to have a strategy, a formation designed to deal with the trap… but it wasn't enough. Some of them failed to the gauge the range and speed of the enemy guns, their heads blown off immediately. And most importantly...

One man cut through the chaos, heading straight for the coffins that contained his kidnapped soldiers. He was faster than everyone else, more graceful and skilled than you remembered, dodged bullets like nothing and slit throats on his way down. 

Of course, only one person could stop him: Kenny fucking Ackerman.

Kenny chased him into a bar, and you knew that this was your time to act. Levi was on the defense, and when Kenny was blown back by a gunshot and Levi flew out the door into a retreat, you pointed your rifles at the MPs chasing him.

_Bang!_

Your shots were calculated, but inexperienced. Many bullets hit nothing but rooftops and rubble, but a few of them sent the officers flying back, the bastards taken by the surprise of a third party. It made it easier that the MPs were completely defenseless when reloading their guns, making them easy pickings for you. Uniforms fell out of the sky whenever you hit them, just like ducks.

When they started firing at you, you knew that it was over, because you were practically dead on your feet without 3DMG. Even with your heart pounding in your ears, you patiently took cover and retaliated whenever you could. It was all according to your plan to maximise your remaining time: a bargain with death. You could hear Farlan's voice the whole time, beckoning you through the veil: _you're pretty good at brokering deals._

They were trained, though. You didn't stand a chance. When a bullet grazed your cheek and knocked down your hood, nearly taking your ear along with it, you began to make your peace.

But mid-prayer, the impossible happened. One of the MPs turned on his own, slugging your attacker across the face and knocking him unconscious. He shot another MP who had been firing at you, taking out his arm. Frozen, you could only watch as your saviour landed on the roof several feet away from you, gun lowered as he approached you.

Johann Wolff pulled off his mask.

After six years of captivity, you knew every single one of Johann's expressions. You knew his loving side, his wrathful side, and his tortured side.

This was his expression of betrayal.

"You...?" he asked, even as you raised the barrel of your gun. This was your chance, you thought, to pay him back for all the bruises and terror and isolation... but curiously, your finger could not pull the trigger.

_What does he have that I don't?_

_I show you the sun, I give you the world._

_Didn't sleep well while I was gone, did you? You never do._

_The pressure, you don't understand it..._

_My Diamond._

"What are you...?"

He never got to finish his sentence.

A blade ran through Johann, springing from his back, through his ribs, and forward from his chest. You froze as his body dropped, hardly registering it as someone grabbed you and flew.

Levi was silent as he retreated with you, but even if he had talked, you wouldn't have been able to hear him.

* * *

**30**

Part of your mind was still replaying Johann's last moments, but as always, your body knew what to do.

The wagon carrying Levi's team was exiting Mitras at breakneck speed, able-bodied Survey Corps soldiers giving cover by fighting off any pursuing MPs. You watched as a stray officer managed to push through the chaos and onto your cart, taking aim at one of the younger boys. When her gun trembled with hesitation, your reflexes took over, and so you grabbed the pistol from your holster and pulled the trigger.

Her body crumpled and fell off the cart.

The soldiers were frozen, but all you did was put the safety back on and the gun away, motions nonchalant and eyes tired. You noticed that the younger ones were still processing, that the Survey Corps kid you had saved was still staring in shock at nothing at all. The only one who seemed to have absorbed things was the small blond kid behind you who had been reaching for his gun before you shot the MP. You looked at his keen eyes, at the way they flickered toward you. He was a smart one.

The others only snapped out of it when Levi returned.

"We're giving Eren and Historia up for now," he announced.

The soldiers were full of urgent questions, utterly confused, but he remained silent. Rather than paying attention to them, all he did was turn and approach you, as though he couldn't hear his men.

You stayed still as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly. Staring over his shoulder, you took in the embrace that you had dreamt about for the last six years. It was strange: despite how tightly he was holding you, and how long you had thought about this, your body was stiff, awkward and unfamiliar. The tension began melting after a moment, though, because a part of you still knew this, knew the feel of his arms, the rise-and-fall of chest, the way his fingers brushed your spine. He had only held you like this a handful of times in his life, as though you were about to slip away, and your body still remembered that.

It took him some time to speak.

"...am I dreaming?"

His voice sounded like it would break any moment, like _he_ would break at any moment. 

The question stirred something in you. You didn't quite know what it was, only that it made your heart clench in a way that it had not for an impossibly long time. It made you remember that, as a child, you had given yourself a life-long mission that was still ingrained within you: _protecting him._ And apparently, no number of years or bruises or diamond necklaces could beat this instinct out of you. Even if the person you used to be was gone, this part of her had lingered.

You put your arms around him. 

"No," you whispered. "This is real."

* * *

**30**

You woke up to see the wooden ceiling of a cabin, crickets chirping noisily outside. Briefly, you wondered if Johann had taken you to some cottage in the mountains. He'd been talking about it for weeks now, saying that the rivers and trees were like nothing you'd ever seen, and that hunting in the forest was levels above the game outside Mitras.

But then a figure beside you shifted, and you became acutely aware that Johann was nowhere to be found.

You didn't recognise the person sitting beside your bed, but something about his face looked familiar. When his snoring broke and he opened his eyes, straightening up in his chair, you remembered _everything._

"You're the kid," you remarked. "The one who almost got shot."

"...yeah. The name's Jean. Jean Kirschstein."

"Glad to meet you, Jean." Politely, you introduced yourself, giving only your name. "So... what happened?" 

"You, uh... you passed out shortly after joining us on the wagon."

"I see." Not so surprising, you thought. In that one afternoon, you had seen more action than in the rest of your lifetime, and the adrenaline must have cut out at some point. Not lingering on it, you glanced around the room, looking for the person you had risked your life for. "Is Levi here?"

"The Captain had to go. Reconnaissance." Jean cleared his throat. "He didn't want to leave you alone, so I volunteered to watch you."

"Oh." That made perfect sense, you reasoned, trying to ignore the loneliness twisting your insides. Levi was a wanted man now; he couldn't afford to linger anywhere for too long. It was not the sentimental sort of reunion of which you had fantasised, but you were glad for the pragmatism. "I see. That's nice of you. 

"It was the least I could do." Seeming to remember himself, the boy saluted passionately, raising his voice into a bark. "Thank you for saving my life, ma'am! I wouldn't be here right now if not for your quick action!"

You blinked, almost taken aback at the sudden change in demeanor. "You're welcome, but you don't have to carry yourself around me like that. I'm not a soldier."

"Huh?"

"I'm just a civilian. You don't need to salute or anything." You smiled tiredly. "I do appreciate it though. Glad my efforts paid off."

"Oh... the Captain told us that you were an informant for the Corps, so I just thought..."

Your gaze softened as you looked out the window, searching as though he would return any moment. "Glad to see he got all my intel. But no, I'm not involved with the military. I was just a civilian who was close to the Interior Squad."

"I see." Jean pursed his lips, looking uncertain. "So... if you're a civilian, does that mean that there are people out there who don't think of us as criminals?"

 _Poor kid._ You could recognise moral dilemma when you saw it. "...I can tell you that circles close to the King aren't fond of you, but it's possible that it's different with the common folk."

He deflated. "I see."

Another silence passed. Again, you spent most of it staring out the window, waiting for the sound of trotting hooves in the dirt. Your fingers pulled at the sheets as you wondered when he would be returning, what it would be like to talk to him, what he would think of you.

"Jean," you said suddenly. "What kind of person is Levi?"

 _"Huh?"_ He seemed to remember himself. "The Captain? Don't you know him?"

"Well, I know he's Humanity's Strongest, but what is he actually _like?_ "

"Well..." Jean looked torn. "His personality doesn't really match his title."

"Oh?” 

"Uhh, that is to say…" He swallowed. "He's quite...” 

"Unapproachable? Scary? Seems like he'll kill you?"

"Yeah!" He promptly looked mortified, realising what he had just said. "Well, I meant to say that he's more _stoic_. Right. He's also extremely dependable." Jean seemed to linger on the thought, body relaxing as he contemplated his superior. His flustered expression dissolved, and he was left looking pensive and far too grim for his age. "...he's a practical man, and that's the best thing you could ask for in a leader, especially beyond the walls.

"But, ma'am—"

"God, please call me 'Miss'. I don't want to feel that old."

"S-sorry!” 

"It's fine. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. It's just that..." He made a face, conflicted. In the end, his curiosity won out, and he blurted out, "Aren't you close to the Captain? I mean, I’ve never heard of him having any family or being, um, _married,_ but I just assumed..."

It took you a moment to realise why he would think that, remembering the intimate way that Levi had held you before you'd passed out: something that you had dreamt about for years, yet had been coloured by uncertainty. You looked at the stars, wondering how Levi would reply to such a question. They continued to shine, apathetic, and you found no solace or wisdom in them.

You hummed.

"You know, Jean, I'm not too sure."

* * *

**30**

Over the past few days, you’d caught glimpses of Levi through the window, but he never stayed for long, never looked at the cabin, let alone you. Of course, that was to be expected from someone who was so busy, but you couldn’t help but wonder whether he might have been avoiding you.

Then again, you also hardly saw anyone else. Jean had to run out on you eventually, quickly showing you around and where the food supplies were before rejoining his squad. A couple of the soldiers had passed by and greeted you at one point, but you had only nodded at them quietly, unsure of what to say. You didn’t quite understand how your greetings kept getting caught in your throat until you realised that you had learned, over the years, to hold your tongue until Johann introduced you to people. Otherwise, you had never been allowed to speak to others. Even though he was gone now, it felt like his ghost had a hold on your vocal chords. _Figures he’d find a way to haunt me,_ you thought sourly.

The day finally came when the revolution saw an end. Levi came to the cabin alone that night, kicking open the door without saying a word. You were already sitting up, mapping out constellations through the window, so it didn’t take much to turn around and greet him, despite all of Johann’s conditioning.

You studied him for a moment. Levi Ackerman had aged remarkably well, looking just like your memory of him save for one or two frown lines and his Survey Corps uniform. It was, just as you would expect, ironed to perfection. Not a single hair on his head was out of place, and his undercut looked impossibly neat. You weren’t sure how a fugitive could look so put together, but you supposed that if anyone could manage it, it would be Levi.

“Hey,” you finally said.

He nodded at you, expression impassive. Mostly. You caught the way his jaw clenched.

“We’ve handled Rod Reiss,” he reported.

You weren’t sure how to respond to his tone, so you opted to play along, take it in stride.

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah. About fucking time.”

 _All right,_ you noted, _his mouth didn’t get any less crass._

Levi shifted, and it was then you realised that _he_ was as just as uncertain as you about this conversation.

“We should go,” he said suddenly, turning around. “There’s a massive Titan fucker on fire some few miles away. I don’t think he’ll head in this direction, but I’d rather not chance getting barbecued into a late night snack.”

“Oh.” You nodded, getting up. “That’s fair.”

“I’ve only brought one horse,” he continued, “so we’ll have to share.”

“That’s fine. I’m no good at riding anyway.”

He glanced at you, finally looking somewhat perturbed. “You took down several MPs, but you don’t know how to ride?”

“It never came up.” You shrugged. “Shooting a couple of MPs wasn’t so hard, anyway. I had a lot of intel on their formation, as well as the disadvantages to their anti-personnel gear.” You paused as he helped you swing your leg over the saddle, gestured for you to hold him by the waist as soon as you steadied yourself. “Plus, you remember that I’ve always been a good shot, right? You were the one who trained me, after all.”

“Knew it’d come in handy someday,” he replied smartly. “Never used rifles in the Underground, though.”

“Been practicing up top.”

If you had been able to see his face, you would have seen his jaw tighten even more.

“Rifles, information about the aristocrats, _and_ knowledge of anti-personnel gear? That MP must have been in fucking love with you.”

His voice was cutting, unbelievably cold. You felt your heart clench, and at first you thought you were angry, but you quickly deflated, chest lacking any fire. It was only guilt.

Your arms tightened around his waist. You wanted to lay your head against his back, just the way you used to, but thought better of it.

“Maybe.”

A long silence passed, punctuated only by the sound of hooves and crickets in the night.

Levi was the first to break it.

“…tell me you had your reasons,” he said. His voice wasn’t quite breaking, but it was strained. It wasn’t quite furious, wasn’t quite anguished, wasn’t quite desperate, but it was something between the three. You leaned into his back a little more, arms tightening again, and you thought you could feel a breath unwind in his body.

“Of course I did,” you said softly, mouth next to his ear. “I never wanted to leave you. I never stopped thinking about you, Levi. That’s the truth.”

* * *

**30**

Although you hadn’t spent much time with Levi since joining up with the Survey Corps, you had already gathered this much about him: he was deeply trusted by the Commander of the Survey Corps; he led his own squad; his men both feared and trusted him. You suspected, from what Jean said, that he was still a prickly little bastard, but that didn’t affect the respect he commanded. He wasn't unrecognisable from the person you had grown up with, but he was still markedly different. He had purpose now, purpose beyond the survival that the two of you had chased after as kids.

Now that you were alone with him, with time to properly work things out, you became acutely aware that over the past few years, you had become purpose _less_. And on top of that, you had hurt him. _Tell me you had your reasons,_ you kept on hearing in your head, each echo driving another stake of guilt into you.

You couldn't possibly stay with him.

You looked at him steadily. Now that he had had some time to recollect himself, he'd resumed his typical resting expression, which looked about as apathetic as it did six years ago. It helped that he no longer seemed visibly hurt. It made the obvious question easier.

"…where can I go?"

He blinked. "Nowhere. You're staying here." He looked at you as though you had just said something stupid.

You paused. 

"Pardon?”

"You’ll stay with me,” he repeated bluntly. “Unless the thought upsets you. I won't force you, but you have nowhere else to go. You also assisted the Survey Corps with invaluable intel. We owe it to you."

"I’ll figure something else out,” you replied. “I can’t stay long-term, and in any case, I’m not sure why I’d be staying with you, specifically.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow. “We used to be close. It makes sense for you to stay with me, at least while you work out next steps.”

“Because…” You bit your lip, thinking. “I'm different now."

"Different?"

"Worse.”

"I don't believe that."

"You need to." You looked up at him, eyes searching for his, needing him to see your conviction no matter how sad it was. "Levi, I'm no longer the person you grew up with." You chuckled dryly. "Not to be dramatic, but I don't feel like much of a person at all these days. It might be weird if I stayed."

Those last words did make him pause. His eyelashes fluttered a bit, seemingly processing.

"I guess you're right."

You smiled, tired. "As I often am, or did you forget that?"

"Tch. I see you haven't lost that mouth of yours." He shook his head before continuing. "But you're right in that we've both changed." He looked at you, and now his face was gentler. Despite the conversation, you were reminded of your clean little room in the slums, of the scraping of a fork as he pushed vegetables onto your plate. "It's still simple. We just learn who we are now."

 _Maybe I don't want you to._ Thinking about Levi knowing your emptiness, knowing about the absence of your old self, was one of the most terrifying things you had ever considered.

You decided to distract him. "Were you always this soft?"

"You're getting a break today, but don't get used to it," he replied dryly.

"Of course."

The both of you paused, banter fading away much faster than it did in the past.

"It won't be easy," you started.

"Of course not."

"I'm not right in my head anymore."

"I kill Titans for a living." His mouth twisted wryly. "Do you think I am?"

"Fair point." You smiled. "But it's a different sort of ‘not right’ for me. I don't know how long it'll take me to be okay again."

"We have time."

"It'd be easier for you if I left."

"Life's never been easy."

"You won't let this go, will you?"

"Have I ever let things go with you?"

"...you've thought about this," you suddenly realised.

"Yes." There it was again: his sentimentality cloaked in nonchalance. Some things, you supposed, just didn’t change. "Often."

"After you got my message?"

"Before that. Been thinking about it for a long time."

"Didn't you say that you thought I was dead?"

"...it was hard to let go of you."

Even now, you could still catch Levi's tells. Pain flashed briefly in his eyes, tightened jaw and furrowed brow giving him away before his expression calmed. Your heart ached, the way that it always did whenever his walls cracked.

"People disappear in the slums all the time," he started, voice unwavering, but also unusually soft. "When you didn't come home, I thought you had been killed, but then I looked for weeks and never found a body. After I joined the Corps, I filed a missing person’s report, but nothing came up. Sometimes, I'd imagine..." He trailed off, eyes flickering to the ground.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But I caused you so much pain..."

"That's nothing new."

"Oh." You paused, almost taken aback at the comment and the flatness of his tone before you realised that he was joking. "Who's the one running their mouth _now?_ "

"I'll quit it if you stop being so stubborn."

"What a compelling argument."

"I'm full of them."

He stopped to reach into one of his pockets, drawing out a long and bright cut of silk. Even though he stayed pokerfaced, his fingers gave him away: he thumbed your ribbon gently, as if it would break. "When I got this, I thought a lot about what it could mean. I'm not stupid. I knew things must be different now. Hell, you _left_ me—I knew you weren't the same person."

"Are you mad?"

He paused. "You said you had your reasons. I can learn them later."

Your lip quirked. "That's not a no."

"Can you blame me?"

"Of course not.” You bit your lip, question on your tongue. You were half-afraid of what he might answer, but in a way, it would be all the better if this changed his mind. “You’re mad, but you still want me to stay?”

His voice took on a hint of irritation. “I _did_ just say that three times.”

_Still stubborn as all fuck. I should have guessed._

This was, you thought, everything you had ever dreamed of, the hope that had kept you alive and sane during the nightmare above ground. Even after all of the kisses and bruises had chipped away at you, leaving nothing but dust, this was what had driven you to cling onto your existence.

But in the end, the reason you caved was not for your dream. It was for the way he looked at you, lines in his face softening. It was the fact that, regardless of his new life and purpose and comrades, he had never let go of you, and still did not want to let go. It was because the Titans had doubtlessly left a mark on him, and the thought of him dealing with those wounds alone, as he was often wont to do, made you nauseous with worry. It was because you couldn't help but wonder how much he had smiled over the past six years, and how you suspected that he hadn’t, in fact, smiled very much at all.

It was because of what you had resolved to do for him the minute you found him in his mother's room. 

The person you used to be was gone, but she had left an imprint upon you that would last forever.

"All right,” you finally said. “I’ll stay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thank you for getting this far. I know this chapter is a stark change from the last one, so I imagine people didn’t enjoy it as much. I actually have decided to extend this to three parts, because I couldn’t fit in everything here (as you can see, this is long as fuck). The third part will definitely be the final one though. I can promise a lot of fluff and healing in the third chapter. Again, comments/kudos will mean a TON and help motivate me!! :)
> 
> A note about the plot: I recognise it might have been hard to suspend disbelief for the reader’s eventual actions in helping the Survey Corps. I also didn’t want to waste time on logistics, despite having thought it all out, so that might have made it especially difficult. However, my decisions for her character arc were motivated by a desire for her to find agency and power (in a way that is meaningful in the SnK universe) despite an abusive situation, and I hope you enjoyed reading that.


	3. Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long! This chapter was challenging for me to write, because the developments and conflicts were so internal. I hope I did a good job of it in the end. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this journey. I will be posting an afterword, because I am pretentious and overly attached to this fic lol.

**0**

The medic was occupied with those hurt from the rescue operation. Next to the injured soldiers, they paid you no mind. It was all right, Levi thought. Given your pasts, he simply assumed that he'd be the one looking over your wounds anyway.

"I don't have any," you protested. He frowned.

"You're hurt anyway."

From the way you went quiet, he knew that he was right.

"...still this perceptive." Your voice played at exasperation, but he could hear what was underneath: hesitation, wariness. You were _wary_ of him, he suddenly realised. Briefly, he thought of the guarded expressions you used to wear after selling yourself. He thought of the way you looked at him and Kenny after your first night at the brothel: wrapped in blankets and three layers of clothing, looking at everything and anything like it would hurt you. 

It took you some time, but eventually, you peeled off your shirt, then your pants. His breath caught at the sight of your naked skin: not out of desire, but pain. His stomach curled at the sight of all the green and purple that marked your flesh, the same way it always did whenever you came home from your more violent clients. Most of the marks didn't surprise him. He knew that a lot of the injuries were from your suicide mission in Mitras, from all the dodging and running and being thrown around. 

But some of the bruises were _old._ From the way you moved, he knew that they still hurt, bones wrapped up in blood. They were in places that would have gone unscathed during the battle: your ribs beneath your breasts, the inside of your thighs, the space under your collarbones, the skin of your neck. 

They took two forms: small and in clusters of five or ten, or entirely shapeless.

And just like that first night, his heart ached.

* * *

**0**

Levi would have never let you go. He was surprised that you didn’t understand this right away, but then again, you had changed.

He knew immediately that you were different. He wasn't stupid. It was as he'd said to you: you'd left him, and in your life together in that city without stars, you would never have done that. And it still showed, even if you had come back to him. 

You no longer talked to people the way that he remembered. You used to come home and throw yourself around his shoulders and eagerly introduce yourself to whatever client he was seeing. _What's your name?_ he remembered your lilting voice asking Jan. You never sounded that bright these days. You never talked to other people, instead smiling stiffly and silently next to him. Your hands often twitched, as though you were on the precipice of reaching out to him, but being held back by some invisible force. Your jokes were fewer. He could tell, from the way that you laughed, that you were often sad.

Your smile was familiar, at least. He recognised it as the smile you'd flash at him after getting home in the early morning, trying to scrub off your skin. He had realised, when he got older, that you were trying to wash away your clients’ touches, that you smiled in that distracted way because you couldn’t stop thinking about them. It always tore at him, the way you did that. Even though he had always berated you about not washing up properly if he didn’t do it for you, that was the _real_ reason he had started helping you clean up: so that you would stop scratching yourself raw. 

But he wouldn't do that for you now. He wasn't sure that you'd feel okay with touching him. 

And he wasn't sure whether you loved him. Not after all this time. 

You were not the girl he had dreamt about for six years. He understood that fully.

He still wouldn't let you go.

He owed you a debt from the day his mother died. Ever since then, you had tried everything possible to make him eat, make him strong, make him smile. 

It was now time for him to repay that debt. Levi would make you smile again, even if it took him the rest of his life.

Levi would make you smile, even if you’d never love him again.

* * *

**1**

In the wake of the revolution, the Survey Corps stayed in Mitras to help sort out the shambles of the throne. Levi wasn't _quite_ in the centre of it, not in the way that Darius Zackley or Historia Reiss were, but he had still been key in the rebellion and was currently helping his superiors oversee the establishment of the new government. You lingered for your own reasons as well, tried and interrogated due to your association with the nobles. You became somewhat of a curiosity to your new rulers: a prostitute of the slums turned Survey Corps spy.

"And why," Zackley tried to clarify, carefully examining the memoirs that you had found in Johann's study, "did you choose to betray the Wolff family again?"

 _Betrayal_ sounded so dirty. It was a term that assumed that you had been loyal to Johann in the first place. It sounded like something he would say, and you already had so much difficulty these days forgetting what his voice sounded like. You tried not to let your discomfort show, knowing that Levi was somewhere in the audience.

"Captain Ackerman and I grew up together, and the Interior Squad were planning on killing him. That's all." The crowd shifted with whispers, and you saw, out of the corner of your eye, Jean leaning over to talk to his squad mates. 

"Several Interior Squad MPs and aristocrats have testified that you were happily living with Johann Wolff." Zackley adjusted his glasses. "Don't misunderstand me. If you killed some of those pissants, you're good in my books. But I'd be stupid not to clarify the details here for everyone else's benefit. You'd forget about your old friends and family and swear allegiance to a new regime... for one person? Seems absurd."

You were quiet, stuck between _I wasn't planning on living long enough to see the new regime_ and _I didn't have friends or family when I was with Wolff_ and _yes._

You settled for: "If you don't trust me, you can lock me up with the rest of the aristocrats."

Levi cut in, looking at your judge sharply. "He will do no such thing."

The tall blond beside him—Erwin Smith, looking much better than he had under house arrest—put a hand on Levi's shoulder, beckoning him to stand down. "That won't be necessary, Zackley. Levi and I have both testified to her assistance to the Survey Corps. She has no loyalty to the Fritz family. I understand why you're wary of the nobility, but you can treat her differently from the others."

"She's not a noble," Levi added quickly, almost talking over Erwin. "She never married into the Wolff family. You're not going to lock her up and feed her her own shit, or whatever the fuck else it is you do with your prisoners."

"It's much more elegant than _that— _" Zackley began, but the older man beside him interrupted him, clearing his throat.__

"Well, Zackley, it sounds like there is sufficient reason to believe her claims." General Pixis glanced at you, briefly curious but not fully invested. "We have other matters to discuss. Your name will be legally cleared of association with the Wolffs, and you will be free to move and live wherever you please."

You lowered your head, bowing politely.

"Sir."

You tried to look grateful, not giving away how funny and fucked up the whole notion was. After all these years, you _still_ weren't a citizen. You _had_ no name to legally clear.

Later on, during the uncomfortable walk back to the sleeping quarters with Levi, you chose to break the silence between the two of you with the irony of that observation. 

"Tch." That was closer to a laugh than nothing at all, at least. "If either of those geezers had been properly listening, they would have known that." 

"No, he was listening." Your jaw tightened. Johann had drunkenly ranted enough about political power plays for you to know what was happening. "He just didn't want to acknowledge your testimonies so that he could incarcerate me lawfully. Zackley is smart to get rid of any trace of the aristocrats. They're a threat to the new order—them, their wives, their children. It's cruel to go after entire families, but it makes sense, and I... can see why someone would consider me part of the Wolff family."

Arms crossed, Levi appraised you, face blank. 

"What is it?"

"Nothing. Just surprised you picked up on his plan." He finally relaxed, arms falling to his sides as he turned to walk. "I guess you’ve never been one to miss things." 

Your lip quirked. "Thanks. I think." 

He kept his eyes on his keys, something clearly bothering him.

After a moment, he asked, "Do you?" 

"Do I what?"

"Consider yourself part of the Wolff family."

"I mean, if I did, that means I murdered my own husband. And I wouldn’t do something like that." You smiled wryly. "Do _you?_ "

"Do I what?" You wondered if he was mocking you.

"Consider me part of the Wolff family."

Levi stopped. The sun was at his back, and in the long shadows of the afternoon, you could not make out his expression. You couldn't say what it might have been.

"If I did, I wouldn't have defended you."

"...right."

"I know you didn't stay because you wanted to. He wasn't family." 

He seemed confident, and you knew you should have been grateful for it, but it only confused you.

"No," you agreed anyway. "How did you know?"

"You'd already explained," he reminded you simply. But he paused, and as he turned, you could see that he was looking at your painted neck. You found yourself reaching up to the covered bruise, self-conscious.

"Right." You made yourself smile. "Thank you for believing me."

The sunlight made you squint. You wondered if, in the light of day, he could make out your microexpressions. You wondered if he still knew your voice well enough to know that you were not telling the whole truth.

* * *

**5**

The day came when much of the military returned to their posts. A few stayed, mainly the superiors of each branch, including Levi. And of course, you stayed with Levi. Your continued presence in the legislature halls was only a mild surprise for most people: you had so far been his shadow, after all.

Of course, there were still moments when people were caught off-guard. With your freedom ensured, you were brought out of the prisoners’ confinements in the basement, and with that came its own problems. There weren't _so_ many extra quarters in the capitol, and when they were making room assignments and contemplating whether you—neither military nor royal—should stay, Levi had coolly stated that you wouldn't be taking up any extra room.

"She can stay in my quarters."

You could see the group of kids from his cabin freezing, staring at their captain. The couple of officers tasked with making assignments were looking at him incredulously, and even Erwin’s brow twitched. You shuffled uncomfortably, wondering whether you should relent and tell him that you'd just stay at an inn, but Levi silenced the whole room with a sharp look. 

“What is it? I’m not going to let her stay in the dungeon. It’s filthy. And she isn’t going to stay at an inn by herself with all those anti-aristocrat mobs on the streets. It’s a fucking witch hunt out there.”

The officer with the clipboard wilted beneath his stare, and scribbled onto his papers: Levi would be making arrangements for your housing.

It was only later that Levi checked, "Does this make you uncomfortable? I can pay for an inn. I don’t know if I have the time to keep you safe, though." 

"No. Staying in your room makes sense." You nearly frowned at the dryness of your own answer, thinking suddenly that the girl of the Underground would have thrown him a flirtatious little smile. _I know you want to spend the night with me. It'll be fun._ She'd look for a rise from him, and it wouldn't work.

You didn’t bother.

"Well, it doesn't matter," Levi remarked. "I don't usually sleep in my bed."

"Where, then?" Your eyes narrowed, mind sifting through the possibilities. Was he sleeping with someone else? The thought twisted the space between your ribs, selfish and child-like.

Unaware of your internal conflict, he breezily replied, "I work late. I only ever nap in my chair."

"That's not healthy!" You frowned, turning to him. "You should be getting eight hours a night in a proper bed."

"Have I ever been healthy?'

"You were when I was around!"

"You always woke me up in the middle of the night."

"You woke _yourself_ up! To check on me when I came home! And when we got older... I mean, you had no complaints about why you were staying up _then._ " 

Even as the words left your mouth, you knew they sounded off: the forced echo of the person you used to be.

Levi kept silent for a moment. You could tell that he was contemplating something difficult from the way his eyebrows and lips twitched, and you wondered if you had said something wrong. Maybe, given your abandonment, he disliked reminiscing about all those nights he'd spent with you. Perhaps he felt betrayed, because out of everyone in his life, he thought that you'd be the last to leave.

But that wasn't it at all.

"That wouldn't be the reason I'd be staying up these nights." A pause. “Right?”

His tone didn’t make it sound like much of a question, but your walking slowed anyway.

Of course, the idea had occurred to you. How could it not? You had spent most of your adult life pining after Levi, even after thinking that you would never see him again. And as much as you wanted to make him happy, it would have been a lie to say that part of your decision to stay hadn’t been motivated by the possibility of the two of you loving each other again. 

"Well, you definitely won’t be staying up to work anymore. I’m really not letting you do that," you countered smartly, trying to deflect.

His mouth twisted, and you thought that maybe he was on the verge of smiling. "Stubborn, aren't you?"

"Always."

"Tch.” He sounded more amused than aggravated.

But then the lightheartedness dropped. “It’s not like you to ask that kind of question, though, Levi,” you remarked. “Or it wasn’t six years ago.”

“We’re about to share a room. I’d prefer to sort it out now, that’s all. It’d be a pain in the ass if we let things get complicated.” His tone was all business, devoid of any uncertainty. “What’s our relationship, then? Will you be ‘keeping me up’?”

Levi watched you levelly. You couldn't see hope in his face, nor could you see disgust. You tried not to control your own expressions, hiding your longing and confusion. _Why ask this now?_ you thought, _when you haven’t shown any interest in me at all?_

"...if that's what you want." You looked away, eyes stuck to your growing shadows. "Do you?"

"Probably not."

"Ouch!" You forced a laugh, even though you couldn’t remember the last time your chest hurt this much. "You didn't even think about it."

"Are you stupid? Of course I've been thinking about it." Levi rolled his eyes. "If I hadn't been thinking about it..."

Usually, the way he spoke was self-assured: cold, quick, clean. It worried you, the way he was now hesitating.

"If you hadn't been thinking about it?"

His eyes stayed on the handle of the door as he keyed the lock. 

"It doesn't matter."

You couldn’t get a read on him. Even though your tone was playful, you watched him carefully as you tested: "You know, if that's actually what you want, I'm okay with it." 

Levi paused, finally looking at you. He studied you carefully, and you knew that he would get nothing out of it. You had developed quite the mask around Johann, cultivating a pokerface to match Levi's. It was less mean with fewer lines, but it was about as impenetrable as his. He probably wouldn't know, you thought. Probably couldn't tell that your question wasn't just a polite joke. Probably didn't know that you wanted him to say yes. Probably didn't know that you also wanted him to say no.

"...it's not what I want," he finally replied.

Your heart dropped.

"I don't mind." You hesitated, hating that you were so desperate in spite of your nonchalant tone. "I'm fine with—"

It was something about your words here that made him lose his temper. You didn't know why, because all you meant to say was _I'm fine with it, because I trust you, because I still feel something for you._

" _Drop it,_ " he snapped, not even letting you finish.

And so you did.

* * *

**5**

Traitor. Prostitute. Lover.

Those were all the words you'd been branded during court, what the jury had whispered about your relationship with him, and with that shitstain who had locked you up for six years.

He hated it, because he couldn’t defend you. He hated it, because Erwin wouldn’t let him kick the shit out of all of them, lest he jeopardise your hearing. He hated it, because he didn't know what you were to him. He fully knew what _he_ wanted you to be, but he wasn't sure how you viewed yourself. 

He didn't understand what you were playing at, offering to sleep with him all of a sudden: _I'm fine with it,_ he knew you were going to say, the same way you said that you were _fine_ with working at the brothel all those years ago when the two of you fought about it endlessly. It pissed him off. It gouged at his heart.

When your face dropped, he wanted to fix things. He wanted to clarify. But he didn't, because he didn't know what he was to you, and because he was a fucking coward, like he was a scrawny fifteen year old all over again.

_It's not what I want. I'd want to do more for you. I can't ask until I've made a better life for you._

He wanted the glowing sun to become the candles in your little room in the slums. He wanted the crisp sheets above ground to be as warm as the ones you had slept in together in the Underground.

But it was cold, and he didn't know if you missed being in between those sheets.

* * *

**6**

You had expected Levi to leave you to your own devices, but surprisingly, in the following days, he frequently accompanied you in his spare time. You could feel him watching you closely the first few times you sat down with people, especially when he realised that you would not freely talk the way you used to.

It wasn't like you didn't try. But no matter how much you pushed yourself, it seemed you could only manage a polite smile and introduction, the way that Johann had liked it.

"These brats are my squad," Levi started, pointing at them one-by-one with his fork. "Sasha, Connie, you've met Jean... That's Armin, and Mikasa." He paused a little bit at her, deciding to add, "She's an Ackerman."

"Oh! Wow.” You couldn’t help but stare at her pitch black hair and delicate features. “I can see the resemblance." You tried not to laugh when her face soured, or when Levi rolled his eyes.

"And this is Eren," Levi finished, ignoring you. "He’s the brat we were chasing after the whole time."

At his tone, you smiled as you appraised the kid, whose eyes had flashed with guilt for a moment.

"Don't worry," you reassured him. "He likes you. I can tell."

At this, Eren's jaw went a little slack. So did everyone's, actually. Levi only rolled his eyes.

"Don't put funny ideas into his head."

"You just don't want them to know how soft you are," you teased.

“Actually, never mind. Don’t put funny ideas into _any_ of their heads.”

“See, guys? He’s bashful.”

Connie choked a little bit. Sasha stopped mid-bite to keep herself from laughing.

“Not bashful enough to stop me from tripling your cleaning duties,” Levi shot back, looking pointedly at the girl.

“You know, if you do a bad enough job, he’ll eventually just give up and do it for you.”

“I already regret introducing you to my squad,” he said dryly, even though his lip quirked just slightly.

But the banter did not last long. You soon faded into silence. Levi did not allow himself to frown, even though he had thought, just for a moment, that the person who used to come home and throw her arms around his shoulder, talking up his clients and workers, was back. Five minutes into a silent lunch with his squad, Levi decided to try something. Eyes narrowed with suspicion, he whispered into your ear.

"You know you can talk to them."

You would never know it, but he could feel his chest tighten when he saw you straightening up and finally chatting up his soldiers. It reminded him a little bit of a trained dog. He was still twisted up about the fact that you'd spent six years with some other man, but he understood, now more than ever, just how little choice you had had in the matter.

* * *

**10**

Piecing together your identity was a problem that you never thought you'd live long enough to see. Now that you were alive and confronted with the task of healing, you were, for the first time in your life, lost. The trials of the Underground had given you a certain direction, and you would never admit it, but the rule that Johann imposed upon you in that sleepy little townhouse had done the same.

It helped, a little bit, to know what Levi had been up to over the past six years. He seemed these days to have an unshakeable purpose. You could not entirely let go of your jealousy, but it also made you hopeful.

"You weren't a tea person in the Underground," you whispered, watching the leaves settle to the bottom of the porcelain cup. A lamp fixture hummed in the background, steady golden glow nothing like the candles of your old home. Another difference, you thought.

Levi took another sip. “Tea in the Underground tasted like shit.”

"Fair." You sipped, recognising the cultivar from your days in the townhouse. "Wow. Jinae's best export. You went for the finest stuff. And it's brewed perfectly." 

"I always have some kid do it for me." He snorted, looking at his own cup, not meeting your gaze. "Should have seen her. Looked confused as fuck when I asked for two sets."

"Hmm." You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to know the answer to your question. "You never spend the night with anyone?"

"Never." His voice stayed casual, "I never brought that sort of business back here."

The relief you felt at those words made you feel like a selfish piece of shit. So did the way your heart twisted at the silent implication.

"But you indulged in it."

He didn’t seem bothered. “I'm human.”

You smiled, even though your stomach was turning. "You sure? Six years and... no one?"

"You try bathing in Titan blood. It really kills your interest in that kind of thing... Unless you're Shitty Glasses." He snorted. "What a nutjob."

You giggled. "I like her."

"That's surprising."

"No, it’s not. You respect her. I can tell."

"Tch." He relented, basically admitting that you were right. Levi then looked at you, watching you carefully over gilded china. "And you?'

"And me?"

"No one besides that MP?"

"No. He barely let me speak to other people. I could hardly date them."

"...how about him, then?"

"Hm?"

His brow furrowed, and he had to put down his cup lest he break it.

"It wasn’t your choice to stay with him, but you liked him—at least a little bit."

Your mind went blank, for a moment. How the fuck had he figured that out? What was he thinking? What did he think of _you?_

But then you realised: he wasn't accusing you. He was trying to understand you.

"How do you know that?"

"You say his name when you sleep."

"...you've seen me sleep?" 

"I check up on you sometimes."

"Creep,” you joked. "But I guess I can’t complain. I check up on you, too."

He raised a brow. "That explains the blankets.” 

“Yeah. You should really stop sleeping in your chair, by the way.”

“It’s easiest to sleep there when I need to work.” His mouth thinned when you looked ready to scold him. “I’m not having this argument again.”

“Oh, fine,” you relented. 

You pause, considering your next question. It would be a lot worse than asking about something like his dating history. You knew that, but you also knew that you wanted to understand what had happened to him over the past few years.

"…you say a lot of names, too. Who are they?" You expected some of them, of course. Isabel, Farlan, Mother. Your name came up more often that you would like. That all made sense to you, but there were also others. "Who's Petra? Oluo... Eld..."

'...Gunther," he finished. "They were my squad."

Your gaze softened.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure they were good people."

He was quiet. 

“It must be hard, dreaming about them all the time.”

“It doesn’t matter. Not much I can do about it.”

"Well… maybe, maybe not. We could try sleeping together?"

His eyes shot up, almost glaring at you.

"Not like that," you quickly added. "Just... together. The way we used to." When he didn’t reply, you added, “I’m just asking because it used to help you.”

"I know. But I’m fine right now. Don’t force yourself to do something like that."

"I'm not." Your voice was gentle. "I want to."

"It’d be weird," he added bluntly.

You smiled a little.

"Would it? We’ve slept together since we were kids. It helped both of us. And it’s been a long time, but we're still friends, aren't we?"

He fell silent.

You then straightened up to chide him. "Anyway, it'll force you to sleep on a real bed and not in that stupid chair."

You hated that chair. Hated that as you draped a blanket over him, his brows were nearly pressed together, lines deep. Hated the way that he'd whisper names, looking white as a ghost with the way the moonlight hit him. Hated that his breathing was stutter-stop, hitching in your ears. Hated that he slept like this all the time, and that you hadn't been there to help him for a whole six years. Hated that no one else had held him during that time. Hated that when you leaned in to kiss his forehead, feather light, he opened his eyes and looked at you with glazed eyes, still caught in a dream.

"Don't say that," he mumbled. 

"Say what?"

Trapped behind that grey marble, he couldn't hear you.

"Same fucking thing every time. Getting...tired of it."

You looked at him, moonlight bouncing off your face with a peculiar expression. You'd worn it many times in Johann's townhouse, the stars bearing witness to a face that was never made in the Underground. It had always looked foreign to you in the mirror, but Levi seemed unsurprised.

"Sorry." You smiled tiredly, humouring him. "I know I repeat myself sometimes."

What he usually did next had shocked you at first. In his waking hours, he never expressed a desire to touch you. He never looked at you with even the remotest romantic interest. But when he was dreaming, he reached out to you like he still loved you.

His fingers were feather light on your cheekbones, nails grazing your skin like you were paper, like you'd crumble.

"You're not real."

"But I am."

He closed his eyes, drifting off again.

_"Liar…"_

* * *

**10**

He hated his dreams. Always had, but especially lately.

He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take seeing someone he treasured so much looking at him so gently, so fondly. He couldn't take it because when he woke up the morning after, everything would flood back to him. Entire years passed in the blink of an eye, and you did not love him anymore. You did not want him touching you anymore. 

He didn't care, of course. It would never change how much he cared for you. 

Still, it hurt.

* * *

**17**

Of course, you tried to execute your suggested plan eventually. It had to be done. The two of you would have to share a room, or else he'd never get proper rest: you sometimes said that it was because he needed someone to force him to lie down and close his eyes, but really, it was because you knew that he would never rest properly if you weren't in the room. It wasn't so different from being in the Underground, where you'd often come back from work in the morning only to hear him talking in his sleep. It wasn't so different from dispelling his nightmares by slipping into bed with him in those early hours, reminding him that you were still alive.

But unlike your time in the Underground, there was only one bed in this room. And you still couldn't bring yourself to sleep in the same bed with anyone else.

You had a solution for that too.

"This is stupid. Stupid as fuck." Levi stared at the ceiling. "There's no reason for you to sleep on the floor. That's the whole point of _me_ sleeping on the floor."

You hummed as you closed your eyes a few feet away from him, on the same hard floor.

"It's not so bad. Sort of reminds me of when we couldn't afford a mattress when we were kids. We cuddled up a lot more then, though."

The two of you fell silent. You wondered if the same question was floating in his head as yours: would the two of you ever get back to that?

"...good night, Levi," you said eventually. Your voice was distant, and although you would never know it, uncertainty curled in his heart—a softer kind than the variety that plagued him before missions, an insidious sort of feeling that he last had years ago, watching you step through the door to see strange men and walk the slums. It was the sort of feeling that kept him awake most nights, before and after you’d left.

He tried not to think about it. Thank God, he thought, he could fall asleep so easily when he could listen to your breathing.

* * *

**19**

You had thought that maybe you were ready. You had thought that sharing a floor wouldn’t be so different from sharing a bed. You had thought that this wouldn’t be a problem.

But it wasn’t working out.

The two of you were not touching. You were simply lying next to each other: a position that used to be innocuous and natural, something that you had grown up doing. You tried to focus on the things that should have made you comfortable, like his scent. You could still remember that first night you had thought him dead, holding your face to his pillow, trying to catch the last traces of him with your lungs.

You had missed it. He still smelled like home.

Still, your eyes stayed glued to the ceiling, untouched by drowsiness. Your spine was tense, and your breathing was measured. 

There were too many other, unfamiliar things that made you alert: the way the shadows of the tree danced across the ceiling. The presence of moonlight. The dip of a bed without creaky springs. A body next to you that was heavier than Levi's six years ago, but not lighter than Johann's a mere two weeks ago.

This was no longer comfortable for you.

It was funny in a way that made you want to cry. So many years spent making your body sleep with men you did not want, but none of them had prepared you for this: the moment where you could not make it sleep with the man you loved.

It didn't help, also, that your conversation from a couple of weeks ago kept ringing in your head: _It doesn't matter. I wouldn't want to. Drop it._

After a terribly long time, Levi finally spoke.

"You're as stiff as a board."

"Sorry."

He didn’t reply.

"It doesn't have to do with you. It's just that... I never got to say no."

You turned over so that you could look at him, meeting his gaze. He had already turned onto his side at some point, watching you carefully.

"It was different from before." Your voice was soft. "When I was a prostitute, it was still... my decision, at least a little bit. I got something out of it. But with Wolff, there was no break, no choice." You looked down. "And I didn't have you to go home to."

It took him some time to reply, as though he was internally debating something.

"…but you have me now." 

When he sat up, you wanted to reach out to him. You envisioned touching his shoulder and making him close the space between the two of you, but you found that your hand would not move.

He didn't seem to mind the distance. The mattress shifted as he stood up, his face neutral. As soon you felt his weight leave the bed, a sudden and confusing panic gripped you.

“You don’t have to leave,” you blurted out.

“I’m not,” he replied, seeming unconcerned. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”

You felt yourself relax.

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take the floor. You take the bed.”

“Tch. This again?” He shook his head, throwing a pillow onto the flooring before sitting down with it. “I’m already here. Don’t make me move again.”

You frowned as he lied down, eyes fluttering shut. You hesitated at your next words, and you wondered if he’d even be awake to hear them.

When you were finally able to speak, your eyes watched his calm face the whole time.

“Levi… I feel bad. About everything. I just don’t want to trouble you anymore.”

He was always exhausted when the two of you went to bed. As with every night, he was already beginning to drift off, breathing slowing down.

“Always so stubborn…” he mumbled, speaking to you in that strange voice he used whenever he slept, bitter and tender all at once. “You could never trouble me.”

* * *

**27**

It was driving you mad. Whenever Levi slept, something always slipped out of his mouth, something that was less distant than he usually was, something that you hoped was romantic. Maybe there was a chance that the two of you could be together again. Sure, he had said those words— _I wouldn’t want to. Drop it._ —but perhaps he had changed his mind? Maybe he had remembered what you’d shared all those years ago, and started to miss it again?

But what was driving you _more_ insane was not knowing the capacity in which he cared for you. Maybe he had only taken you in out of a sense of loyalty, of obligation. Maybe he thought back more to your time together as children, or as friends. Maybe he had moved on, and no longer cherished the memories of your strange and passionate engagement, of assigning each other housework in advance, of waltzing together and joking about how you should make him dance at your wedding, of talking about how many kids you’d have and how good or shit you’d be as parents. Maybe he didn’t miss any of that. Maybe he had had better, and stopped missing it.

It was a stupid insecurity. It was one you couldn’t shake.

“I can't believe it,” you said one day, finally caving.

"What?" 

"That it's been six years, and there's been no one."

"Why not?"

You winced a little bit. You hadn't expected the subtle snap in his tone.

"Well. Six years, you know." You cleared your throat. This next part was hard to dig out of your chest, an insecurity that had wedged itself solidly into your heart. "I thought a lot, when I first saw you again, that you were lying to make me feel better. Still do, sometimes. I mean, I know you're not a liar, but..."

"If you know I'm not a liar," he cut in, "then why are you worried?"

His tone wasn't impatient, exactly, but it was flat. It was very much him, and you weren't quite so used to his frankness anymore. Not when it came to this.

"Well..." Your voice wavered. "It’s hard to believe. It’s a long time alone."

Finally, his composure broke. He sat up, running a hand through this hair.

"It was six years for you too. I kept thinking you left me because you wanted to, but you said you never stopped thinking about me, and I believe you." You weren't ready for the narrowed look in his eyes. He looked less thirty and composed, and more eighteen and hurt. You knew this voice. He was trying not to lash out. "Why can't you believe me?"

"I..." You swallowed. Suddenly, you remembered— _felt_ —how defensive you got in your arguments with him. "Can you blame me? Levi, you moved on. Maybe not with someone else, but definitely from the Underground. I’m glad you made a different life for yourself, but I—”

He shook his head, getting up. Your heart clenched, thinking that he was going to leave you, but instead, he walked to his nightstand, throwing open the drawer.

"You think I moved on." Levi's voice was taut with irritation. You shrunk back, uncertain. "You think I stopped thinking about you."

"Is it such an unreasonable assumption?" You tried not to laugh. "Besides everything else, you don't even act like you want to touch me." 

He stared at you, unreadable. When he finally looked away, it was to pull something out of the drawer. You fumbled when he tossed it at you, and when you felt the velvet, your eyes widened.

"This is..."

You opened the box, and promptly regretted every word you'd said.

"...the fattest fucking diamond I could find," he finished for you. His lips thinned. "Bought it the day I went back to the Underground for you. I could never pawn it away.”

“But why?” you croaked out. It was the only thing your blank mind could manage. 

He snorted. “I told you. I kept wondering..."

Levi trailed off, fist clenching. When he resumed speaking, he looked away.

"I don't touch you these days because I don't want to scare you. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Never have."

 _Right._ You started to feel like a moron. He had always been so careful about your boundaries in the Underground with his touches and desires: why wouldn't he up here?

"I can't believe you'd be so stupid," he continued. "I never fucking moved on."

"Levi..." Your eyes were so hot, voice soft, but none of it helped.

"Keep it," he snapped. "The ring is yours. I don't care what you do it. I don't know what you want to do with it anyway."

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. _I never moved on either, can't you see?_

"...you're as just as stupid as me, then."

At the words, he turned to you just in time to see you slip the ring onto your finger. 

All of his acid replies left his throat, replaced by his breath. He couldn't help but stare.

You'd never know it, but the diamond shone on your hand the exact same way it did in his dreams.

* * *

**27**

‘Awkward’ didn’t really cut how Levi felt about your argument. After watching you put that stupid ring on your hand, clearly tearing up, he felt distinctly assholish for snapping at you. _Good going, you fuckwit,_ he kept saying to himself. The one thing he _never_ wanted to make you do was cry. Besides the Titans, he couldn’t come up with anything he hated seeing more. 

“Hey.” He finally approached you, all the vitriol drained from his voice. When was the last time he had sounded so soft? He couldn’t remember for the life of him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You were smiling now, which made his chest lighten, but he still hated the way you were wiping your eyes. 

“Are you sure?” He paused, knowing that he couldn’t do something like reach out and thumb away your tears. You weren’t close enough for that anymore—even if, it was starting look like, the two of you still had feelings for each other. “…I was very harsh.”

“You’re always harsh.” You laughed, and it wasn’t like the other times you’d laughed since you came back. It was the happiest he had heard you in six years, and he wanted to hear it over and over again.

“You’re not wrong.” He took a step closer. You didn’t tense, not the way you had in bed, or when you did when he moved too quickly around you. You only looked at him, seeming relaxed even if uncertain.

“Are _you_ okay? I was… I was very accusatory. And invasive. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. He thought he had made peace with the idea of you moving on from him, or never returning his feelings, but seeing you wear that ring like he had imagined so many times—Levi knew he’d been fooling himself, and suddenly understood why you’d been so emotional.

“Really?” Your eyes narrowed. “You seem bothered by something.”

“It’s nothing. I just…” He paused. It took everything he had to stop his fingers from reaching out and brushing your hair back. “You know I hate seeing you cry.”

“I know. You’ve said.” You fingered the diamond, looking down at it sentimentally as you spoke. He was starting to think he was dreaming: this wasn’t something he had ever expected to see in real life, and even his subconscious knew that. But you did not look at him mournfully, and you did not say the words, _you have to move on, you have to let go._ Instead, when your lips moved again, it was to ask him, “Remember how much we’d fight when we were teens?”

“Couldn’t forget. Never wanted to do that again, but I guess I screwed that up.” You laughed again, and it made him inch further toward you. 

“I’m glad. I don’t know if I ever would have gotten this ring out of you otherwise.” Pausing, you looked up at him, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to look away from your eyes. “So, um… I know you said you didn’t care what I did with this, but are you okay with me wearing it?”

 _Of course,_ he wanted to say, and he wanted to ask if he could hold you afterward, but then you smiled and added, “You know… purely as a fashion statement.”

He snorted. 

“It looks obnoxious as hell, but I can’t stop you.”

Pretending to study your ring, you hummed. “You picked this out. It’s your taste that’s bad, not mine.” 

“I was in a rush.”

“And now you’re going to have to live with your mistake. I’m going to wear it all the time, just to shove it in your face.” 

“Still so rude.”

You giggled.

“…are you okay with it, then?”

“With what?” 

“Me wearing it.”

“Well, that’s what I bought it for,” he stated bluntly, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, _years ago._ Can you blame me for asking?” 

“I’m starting to hate the phrase ‘six years’,” he said flatly. “Fuck it.” _Fuck it, I don’t care anymore._

You shook your head. Even though you were still smiling, he saw it falter a bit: as though you were trying to keep yourself from beaming. He’d seen you make that face a couple of times when you were teenagers, usually whenever the two of you were talking about money or taking safer jobs or fantasising about ways to leave the Underground. It always gave him a bitter feeling, one that ate at his heart. 

He listened intently when you spoke again, this time much more soberly.

“I don’t know what this means, Levi.”

His brow furrowed.

“It’s not obvious?”

“No. Well, _yes_ —we know how we feel about each other.”

“ _Finally._ Thank fuck.” 

Your lip twitched briefly, but then your face fell again.

“I don’t know if it’ll work out.”

“Me neither.”

“Yeah.”

Even though you deflated slightly, Levi’s expression was steady.

“We’ll just have to see,” he said. Even though he sounded nonchalant, he had to admit that there was a lot of excitement, apprehension, joy, bitterness coiling up in his chest. It constricted his lungs, and made him feel like throwing up. He felt like a fifteen year old kid again, wondering if his childhood friend loved him back or if he was just projecting his hopes onto her, feeling shitty whenever other men approached her, and feeling distinctly pathetic whenever he woke up from a dream where the two of them had a nicely kept home and two kids. 

“Mm.”

When he glanced at your face, he caught you staring at him, and he couldn’t help but stare back. 

“I’ll try my best for you,” you promised him.

Your fingers brushed his: the most contact the two of you had managed since you were reunited. 

“I know.”

* * *

**41**

There were moments where you thought you might have been caught up in one of your daydreams.

These moments had open fields and giggling children. Levi's squad was there, including the new queen. She ordered his soldiers to move crates while she managed the orphans from the Underground. 

They _loved_ you.

One of them, a redheaded girl of ten with a heart-rending, toothy smile, giggled as she ran behind you and hid behind your legs. She beamed at you, and between her expression and the two little pigtails you had styled into her hair, you felt like you were looking at a ghost.

"Hans and I are playing hide and seek." She placed a finger to her lips. "Don't give me away."

"Of course not, Maddy." You smiled gently, placing a finger to your lips as Levi approached the two of you, brow quirked in question.

"Brats won't stop running around, hm?" 

"They can't help it. They aren't used to all this space. Don't know what to do with it." You smiled, glancing down at Madeleine. She was crouching behind your skirts now, peeking out around your legs to look at Hans' searching figure in the distance. "They love the open fields. They want to be farmers. And some of them want to be part of the Survey Corps... like you." 

They were all from the Underground. Historia had been adamant about helping neglected children, and Levi had been bent on realising her orphanage. He never looked after the kids, though. He left that up to you.

When you looked back up at Levi, you were struck by the way he was looking at you. His eyes were soft, and his jaw was relaxed. He looked ten years younger without all the frown lines, and exactly six years younger with his near smile. Yes, you decided, he looked like he was twenty-two years old with how he was looking at you.

A moment later, he resumed his usual mask. As if nothing had happened, he raised his eyebrows.

"Something on my face?" he asked blithely. You laughed.

"No. Just found your expression funny."

"Tch. You always give me shit for glaring, but you _this_ is just how I--"

He froze when you pecked his cheek.

"That's not the expression I was talking about. But you're right, you should stop glaring. You look much more handsome when you smile."

…

“Do you hear them?”

“Yes. Fucking brats.”

“Can’t believe it,” Connie was whispering. Eren was looking at Levi like he had grown a second head. Jean was choking.

“Why is he so happy? _Why is he so happy!?_ ”

“Damn. Love is real.”

Levi turned a little bit, and his squad all looked down immediately.

“There are more bales of hay. _Get to it!_ ” he barked.

“Oh, god—yessir!”

* * *

**41**

He kind of hated how young he felt around you. Young, and hopeful. It wasn’t like him to be like this. Never was, except around you.

When he looked at you like this, face devoid of tired lines, wrapped up in sunlight and smiling at a bunch of (admittedly endearing) brats, Levi couldn’t help but reminisce about the one time you had come home, staring thoughtfully at the wall. _’Fine, I get it. Marriage is not in the cards about me. But seriously, have you never thought about it?’_

_‘Once. Or twice.’_

_‘Really?!’_

He still did. He had thought about it less in your absence, pushing it into the recesses of his mind, where it would resurface in his dreams. Sometimes, in his dream life, it wouldn’t just be you living with him with that ring on your hand. Sometimes, there’d be a baby swaddled up in your arms. Sometimes, there’d be a young kid. Sometimes, the two of you were old and there’d be a lovely adult, with your eyes and his jawline. They’d be taller than the both of you, because they had grown up with full bellies and fresh air and sunlight. He’d be so proud of all of you. These dreams would be the hardest of all of them to wake up from, because your crinkling smile and grey hair meant that the two of you had lived a full lifetime together, and then you’d tell him otherwise. _You need to let go_ , you said, the frown lines around your eyes creasing. _I died fourty years ago, remember?_

Nowadays, he thought about having kids and growing old with you consciously.

He still didn’t know how things would go with you, but when the Underground kids giggled and played around you, he sure as hell couldn’t help but get hopeful.

* * *

**45**

Despite your trial having proclaimed your innocence and freedom, it was apparent that the higher ups did not know what to make of you. In spite of the fondness the 104th held for you, Erwin's ease around you, and Levi's dogged guarding over you, Zackley, in his obsessive vengeance for the nobles, could not stop deliberating over you. You were no longer a prostitute, but you could recognise it when a man had certain predilections and thoughts when he gazed upon you, and Zackley's were most likely chilling.

"You have the right of it," Levi told you one day over dinner. As if he wasn't shoving a piece of pork into his mouth, he continued, "he's a fucked up guy. He hangs the nobles upside down and runs a tube from their mouth to their ass."

Your nose pinched. "Your language is as horrible as ever, I see."

A smirk played on his lips. "And you're more a lady than I remember."

"To be fair, I've always been the classier of the two of us."

He snorted. "Sure," he said, and the both of you tried not to smile wryly at the memory of your occupation. As if your days as an aristocrat's mistress had never happened. It warmed your heart, this silly little inside joke. It made you think that he still thought of you fondly.

Zackley's suspicions and desires toward you were never fulfilled, however. Levi had to confront him at his office, you waiting silently behind him, to argue for moving you to Wall Maria with the Survey Corps.

Zackley lowered his glasses to look at you.

"She could help us here. Prove her loyalties. She knows the nobles and the MPs, could help us extract information."

Levi snorted. "Like you don't enjoy doing that on your own."

"What use would she be to the Survey Corps?" He raised a brow. "And I mean besides the uses you have for her."

Both you and Levi stayed stone-faced. At this point, the whole of the military knew about his particular softness for you, and couldn't help but gossip about the abnormal behaviour of the infamously assholish soldier. Some assumed that without your noble benefactor, you had returned to your previous profession, with Levi being your first client. Others pointed out your shared history and support for the Survey Corps. Some didn't care. You didn’t. Levi apparently did, from the way his jaw clenched.

"Absolutely none," you admitted blithely, trying to move the conversation along before he snapped. "But there's nowhere I'm more likely to die than at the gates outside. You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

Zackley paused. His lips eventually curled up into a smile.

"Clever, aren't you?"

You found yourself thinking of another mad and smug grin in the moonlight, Uncle Kenny's eyes laughing as he taunted you.

_'You were always a smart one.'_

* * *

**50**

He dragged you into his office without much warning. It was strange: between his dealings with the new government and making plans for their upcoming mission in Shiganshina, he had very little time. You couldn't imagine what could be so important that Levi would devote it to you.

On his desk was a strange contraption involving a black disk and needle and a bell-like structure. You raised a brow.

"Is this one of the new confiscated technologies you found with the Interior MPs? I think I’ve seen something like this.”

"Exactly." Levi ran a finger up and down the brass bell. "They were concerned that it could be adapted for information distribution, and of course those assholes liked to keep us in the dark. Tch."

You squinted as you inspected it. "What does it do?'

Levi moved the needle. "Record player. But newer, more advanced. Louder.”

"Huh."

When the white noise gave way to sound, it was not a person's voice that you heard, but a piano and violin. Your eyebrows shot up. It was like someone had taken a musical performance and packaged it up.

And you didn't miss the kind of piece it was either. It began slowly and almost wistful, but it transitioned into something unmistakable. 

"A waltz.”

"Yes." He extended a hand, impossibly nonchalant even though you were completely flabbergasted.

"Why?" you asked, confused even as you took his hand. His eyebrow twitched, hinting at irritation. 

"Tch. Doing you a favour. Is that so strange?" He sounded annoyed, but his touch on your hip was gentle. You leaned into his body.

"Um, yes. I didn't know you had become the type for grand gestures like this. You’re not the most romantic." Not that you really minded. The more you let the beat carry your bodies, the more your shock melted away. In between the flighty one-two-threes of your footsteps, you relaxed into his hand on your waist and on your arm.

"Is it?" He looked unfazed. "You liked dancing in the Underground. Always went on about how you wished we had music when we did this." He eased you into a twirl, and you couldn't help it: you laughed. As you spun to face him again, you saw his lip twitching, and you thought he maybe wanted to smile. "Figured when I found this thing that I might as well put it to some use. The Corps don't care for it."

"Hmm." You let your hand linger on his collar, just the way it used to. "You know, it's fine to just say you're trying to make me happy," you teased.

"Tch. Didn't think I had to."

You were right, he thought. It really wasn't like him to do things like this. But now that he was pulling the smile that he remembered out of you, bright and glowing, he knew that it was worth it.

* * *

**50**

After another few days, you made up your mind. Levi had been doubtful, but you surmised that the two of you should try sharing a bed again.

“Come on, I’m wearing a one carat ring on my finger—”

“One? It’s five. Give me some credit.”

“ _Five?_ Did you throw away all of our savings?”

“I was young. Cut me some slack.”

“I was young, too! I wouldn’t have done that.”

“You were always stingier than me.”

“And _smarter._ I would have just stolen it.” 

“I got this above ground, in a city crawling with MPs, so just be glad I didn’t steal it.”

“I would have had a heart attack if you did, unless you sold it afterwards. That would be fine.”

“It would have been fine to sell your _wedding ring_?” 

“Moving on!” You cleared your throat. “I just mean to say, you gave me a _five_ carat ring, and I’m wearing it on my finger. Don’t you think an engaged couple should be sleeping in the same bed?”

“Would you let it go if I said ‘no’?”

“Do you _know_ me?”

“Those Wall Cultists say that people shouldn’t fuck until they’re married.”

“Don’t worry, we wouldn’t get into any funny business. We’ll keep you chaste until we’re joined in matrimony, I promise.” You smiled at his dry look. “Anyway, you detained half of those cultists.”

“No, I detained _all_ of them.” 

He paused.

“…is that a yes?”

“Tch. _Fine._ ”

* * *

**57**

Your nightgown pooled around your bare feet. He looked at you. Despite his blank expression, you knew he must have been confused.

"...what the fuck are you doing?" He finally said. "I thought you said you weren't ready to..." He trailed off, knowing that he didn't have to finish.

You smiled. "I'm not." You crawled into the bed, sitting up in front him, bare skin awash in starlight, covered only by a shift. "I just want to lie next to you."

"In _that?_ "

"It'll get too hot if I wear anything else. You're like a fucking furnace."

He stared at you. 

"You must be kidding me."

You giggled.

"Nope."

His hands were always polite, so you knew that you'd have to make the first move. You grabbed his fingers, undoing his tight fist and pulling his hand up to your collarbone. He froze, as though any movement from him would break you.

"...you're allowed to breathe, you know."

"Tch." He looked away. "Fuck off."

But it _did_ seem to give him the courage to move. His fingers ran briefly to your hair, making you sigh, eyelids falling. It didn't scare you if you closed your eyes. You didn't have to see the night sky when you did. You could focus on his scent, and imagine a ribbon being weaved into your tresses.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, voice low.

Eyes still closed, you smiled.

"Because I like fucking with you."

He snorted. "I see you didn't lose that habit."

"So _dramatic._ Calm down, I know you'll survive. You helped bathe me all the time, and you didn't touch me once."

"Didn't I say that was fucking torture?"

"And I _do_ love to torture you."

He shook his head. Then his fingers fell away.

"Come here," he finally said.

After long minutes of perfect stillness, you moved. All the nights you had spent with Levi, untouched and comfortable, had uncovered the bit of you that still remembered his cleanness. You lied down beside him, on your back. He didn't put his arm around you, didn't even turn toward you. The two of you looked at the ceiling, and you tried to indulge in the heat of his body. It didn't feel bad.

It didn't quite feel good either, but it was a start.

* * *

**60**

In the days approaching the Survey Corps' final bid to reclaim the lost wall, you found a knot forming in your stomach. The six years you had spent without Levi had been unbearable. You could not imagine enduring the same for the rest of your life.

You lay beside him, staring up at the ceiling. Again, the two of you were not touching at all. You never did. It was a strange kind of intimacy, but it was all the two of you could manage at this time, all _you_ could manage at this time, and you would soak in it until the gates lifted and the horses trotted forth.

"Those kids have big dreams," he started all of a sudden. "Big, stupid dreams. They don't want to give up on them."

You glanced at him.

"Well, they're kids," you pointed out. "Dreaming is what they do. The bigger the better."

"Tch. They know they could die."

A frown played on your lips.

"So did we."

A pause.

"So _do_ we," you corrected. Dreaming, as of late, had been something that was coming back to you: not dreaming of and clinging onto the past, but dreaming about the life you would lead in the future. Even though nothing was concrete yet, choosing a purpose no longer seemed so terrifying these days.

But the significance seemed lost on him. He only snorted.

"Maybe. But fuck their big dreams. Mine are dull."

"Yeah?" You smiled, turning to him. He was on his back, eyes closed and chest steady. "Do tell."

"After this Titan shitshow is over, I'm going to open a tea shop," he grumbled. "I'll _finally_ have a clean house to myself, with no trainees to muck it up. I won't have to worry about the sodding government or man-eating giants. I'll just sell and drink tea and get some proper fucking peace."

It was so absurd that you couldn't help but giggle. Here was humanity's strongest, with a sense of purpose you envied, and all he wanted was these kids off his lawn.

"A house to yourself?" you inquired.

"Well." Even though his eyes remained closed, you could see his lips quirking. "You could stay, I guess."

The pillow shifted under his head.

"And you?"

"Hm." Your eyes closed. "I want a nice home near open fields. I don't know what I'll be doing yet, but I'll be the breadwinner again. I'm a way better salesperson, actually… maybe I'll handle that side of your tea business."

"Good," he interjected. "The fewer people I have to deal with, the better." Even though he was joking, his voice sounded so short that it was like he was already trying to avoid the task of attracting customers. "Anything else?"

"Sure. I'm going to have a pet dog—"

"A _dog?_ " he asked, scandalised.

"You bet. And I'm going to own and wear whatever clothes I want. Everyone else can piss off." 

This was the thought that excited you the most. Ever since you had hit puberty, it had always felt like other people had determined what you were going to be wearing: clients you needed to please, or Johann. But all of those men were now in the past, as was the business of selling yourself. 

Levi paused, as though the implications of your words were sinking in. 

"...good," he finally said. "But I'm still going to tell you when you look stupid."

"And _I'm_ still going to tell you when you're being rude—which you are. Right now!"

You could tell that he was trying not to smile.

"Big dreams, huh?"

You felt his fingers brush against yours. Your pinky finger hooked around his, tugged by strings of muscle memory.

"Yeah," you agreed. "And we're going to make them all happen."

* * *

**65**

He came to you that night.

Only a handful had come back. Beaten and worn, they needed to explain to each other what had happened. And Levi needed to explain the most. You could hear the yelling behind the door: none from him, but mostly from Hange. The kids stayed quiet, mostly. Levi was silent.

They filed out one by one. It struck you then, watching their haunted faces, how close they had come to death, how close _Levi_ had come to death. In that little room without sunlight years ago, you had always imagined that once the two of you clawed out from the sewers, the world above promised safety. The two of you would no longer cling for survival, and you'd have each other forever.

But Levi had barely lived. And Erwin had not. And most of those kids, even in their world filled with sunlight, had not.

Levi emerged when the others were gone. He stopped when he realised that you had waited for him, staring at you with a lost expression you hadn't seen in years.

"I fucked up," he finally said. 

You moved toward him, steps increasingly hurried. Desperate. Throwing your arms around him, the two of you buried your faces into each other's shoulders.

"I made a mistake. Biggest fucking mistake I've ever made."

Your arms tightened.

"The biggest mistake would have been dying," you whispered. "And you didn't."

You did not know if you'd consoled him. You only knew his fingers on your spine, the breath against you neck. You only knew that he wasn't certain that you'd stay.

* * *

**65**

Levi begun to have nightmares after returning from Shiganshina, ones that left him kicking and sweating so much that he had taken to sleeping in that shitty chair to shield you from it. You tried your best to help, but you could only do so much. These were nightmares that you could not imagine. Instead of calling out for his mother and for you, he called out to Erwin, Hange, Armin, Mikasa, Eren, Sasha, Connie. 

But eventually, things got better.

You convinced Levi to try sleeping with you again. It took a lot of coaxing, and he seemed skeptical, but you pointed out rather squarely that he had always been an terrible blanket hog anyway and that some extra kicking and sweating wouldn't make too much of a difference to you. After saying this about ten times over breakfast, he cracked, and he found himself in bed with you again. 

And so, kissing his cheek during the day became kissing his face at night. Gingerly holding hands became tightly laced fingers. Stiff heartbeats became gentle ones. He did not steal the blankets anymore, instead wrapping themselves around the two of you, wrapping himself around you. 

Tonight, you laid on your side, facing him instead of the ceiling.

You looked at Levi's lips.

He was the first to voice it.

"Isn't this familiar?"

"Mmm." You could see his eyes flickering down as well. His fingers sought yours out. They felt as warm as they did in the Underground.

"I haven't done this in a long time."

His lip quirked up. "That's a lie," he echoed, knowing that you must have remembered your first shared kiss as well as he did.

"I'm serious!" You smiled. "I mean that I haven't kissed anyone I liked in a long time."

"...me too."

"Are you scared?"

"No." He paused, looking like he was reflecting on something. "Are you?"

"Shitless," you stated flatly. He snorted.

"You set the pace."

Your breath was deep.

"Thank you."

* * *

**85**

"Hey."

"Hm?"

He hardly looked up from his paperwork.

"Let's get married."

It took you a moment to realise what he’d said. 

"Uhh… Come again?” 

"Let's get married," he repeated again, patiently and casually. Apparently, Levi had the habit of proposing rather unceremoniously at unexpected times. Fucking figured. 

"Oh…”

“It’s fine if you’re not ready,” he added, a bit quicker than how he usually spoke.

“No! No, it’s not that. I just… thought you’d ask differently.”

He arched a brow. "You know I've never been one for dramatics."

"I don't know!" you protested. "I thought, maybe, you'd be a little more sentimental about it. Like you'd do it during a waltz. Or show me the stars. Or bend a knee."

"Do you want that?" He looked up at you. "I can redo it. I wouldn’t mind.”

"Ugh! There'd be no point. It wouldn't be real." You shook your head, adding to your feigned exasperation. Probably, you gave yourself away when you smiled at him. 

"I didn't think you'd want the ceremony, you know."

"It doesn't matter to me," he replied, "but I know you wanted it."

A long pause.

"It doesn't have to be a big deal." You put a hand on his shoulder, then let your cheek rest against his head. He didn't react much, but he did reach up, searching for your hand, the way he always had. "We can just go to the Town Hall, get our names registered." You smiled. "Our legal, citizenship names."

"Six years late, but we finally managed it."

His fingers squeezed yours.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"What?!"

He shifted to glance back at you.

"I cleared my schedule," he stated. "But we could push it back if you're busy."

"Tomorrow's good, but, wow! You're a busy man. I didn't expect this."

He lifted an eyebrow. "We're not dragging our feet this time," he said flatly. "Look at what happened the last time we did. Humanity can fucking wait. We're tying the knot tomorrow."

"God!" You couldn't help the giggles that bubbled over. "Such a romantic now."

"Just efficient." But you heard the smile in his voice. "Don't make me change my mind."

You pressed your face against his, lips touching the skin beneath his ear.

"As if anyone could," you teased. "You've always been stubborn."

"And you're no different. Tch. Thank fucking god, you aren't arguing with me about it this time."

"Never will again. Promise."

He turned his head to meet your kiss. 

"...hey."

"Hm?"

"No shitty dresses this time, or gross perfume. I'll help with your hair."

You couldn't help it: you snorted.

"Of course you'd be picky about the aesthetics."

"It's our wedding. We're going to look clean."

Your arms tightened around him.

"Still such a clean freak. Well, all right. We'll manage."

* * *

**86**

"Hey, brats."

Levi's squad looked up from their task: a laborious cleaning of their living space. Eren pulled his face mask down, still the most responsive of all his soldiers. "Yes, Captain?"

"I need two of you to come with me to the Town Hall. Immediately." 

At the doorframe, you smiled at his nonchalance. At this point, it had become endearing: the way he loved you was mundane to him, like a habit carved into him.

Eren straightened up. You guessed that because Levi's tone was so neutral, he had assumed that the issue was military-related. "Of course, sir. What's going on?"

He was so alarmed that you felt bad. "It's nothing to worry about." You walked forward, coming to stop beside Levi, the two of you lacing fingers. "We're getting married. We need witnesses. That's all."

The reaction was immediate. 

Eren's jaw dropped along with Connie's and Sasha's. Jean lost his grip on his broom, letting it clatter to the floor. Armin choked. Even Mikasa looked up from her scrubbing, raising a brow. 

"M-married?"

"Did she stutter?" Levi's tone was impatient. "Come now. Two people. It won't take long."

To your surprise, Mikasa was the first to respond. She stepped beside Eren, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Eren," she said firmly, "we have to go."

"What?" He stared at her, jaw still open. "Why? What's gotten into you?!"

“It would be good for you to see.”

“What does that even mean!?”

"Hey, hey, I'm going too!" Jean's demand didn't surprise you very much. He had always seemed the most invested in your situation. Probably after taking care of you in that cabin, he had sympathized with you, and it showed in how he always made extra effort to talk to you over meals and ask how you were doing when you were idle.

"Wait!" Sasha and Connie almost fell over themselves. "Me too!"

Levi raised a brow, looking unamused. "No. You're not done cleaning. I only need two."

"But sir!" Armin straightened up, using the impassioned voice of a soldier. He was rather good with that. "None of us can miss it."

"Oh?"

"Well—you're our Captain!"

* * *

**86**

The ceremony was a simple affair. Levi seemed a little displeased with it, eyeing the dust bunnies at the corners of the room and below the furniture, clearly itching to clean it up. You giggled, squeezing his hand, sunlight glancing off the diamond in between his fingers.

"It's clean enough for me," you assured him. 

"But not for me," he retorted, clearly irate.

It happened anyway, of course. The two of you signed the papers, witnessed by his whole squad, and then you kissed.

* * *

**100**

"Is this our honeymoon?"

"Honeymoon?" He rolled his eyes, helping you out of the lift that had taken the two of you up. Briefly, you felt guilty, pitying the poor sod that Levi had kicked awake in the middle of the night and ordered to operate the device. Your husband ( _husband!_ you thought, elated at the title), however, didn't seem to care at all, only looking ahead as the two of you began to cross the top of the wall. "Is that what aristocrats do? They have the time to take vacations?"

"Some of them." You kissed him. "I don't need one, though."

"Tch."

The two of you stopped. You sat on the brick, unflinching in the face of his appalled stare.

"Oh, let it go." You rolled your eyes. "I know it's dirty. You can wash my clothes when we get back."

"I'm not joining you down there."

But you tugged at his sleeve, whining that you wanted to hold him, and he eventually gave in, grimacing as he sat down beside you.

"Didn't think you'd be so afraid of getting dirty, Captain."

"I only do it when I need to."

You laughed. He quirked his upper lip at the sound, his retort disappearing.

"...I've never been up here." You tilted your head up. "Never looked beyond on the Walls, or at the sky like this."

It was different from all those nights you'd spent trapped within the Wolff townhouse, or the cabin in the woods, or even Levi's quarters. The starlight was endless here, diamonds and radiant streaks no longer bound by window ledges. 

"Never thought I'd see a sky like this." Your eyes softened. "Or the sky, period."

"...me neither."

"Or taste the kind of meat they feed the veterans. God! That pork. You've been spoiling me with that." It wasn't an understatement. He'd forego his share, pushing it onto your plate the way he did those shriveled vegetables in the Underground.

"Never thought I'd have a full stomach," he countered.

"Never thought we'd have a bed every night!"

"Never thought we'd have all this medical care."

"Never thought we'd be riding horses."

"Never thought I'd buy that useless, ugly ring."

"Hey!" You frowned, smacking his shoulder. "It's beautiful!"

"You still have awful taste," he grumbled. You snorted.

"Yeah, yeah." After a moment, you continued, "Never thought I'd be Missus Ackerman! God, my sixteen year old self would just die."

"Really?" He lifted a brow. "I always knew."

"Always?" you asked, tone playful even though you could feel your heartbeats jarring together. "So confident that I'd say yes!"

"Yes."

"Damn! You're full of yourself."

"Well, was I wrong?" His fingers rubbed yours before they fit into your hand, lingering on your wedding band. "You're here."

"Yeah. I'm here."

You heard it, then: a little sigh, the kind he always made after a long day or after a close call at work or after your time away with clients. " _We_ are."

"Yeah."

He seemed to contemplate something. 

"...never gave a shit about the Titans before. Who knew I'd be in the Corps.”

"You're getting serious!" You frowned, pecking his cheek. "Let's have a nice night. Hm... Never thought we'd plan to have a tea business."

"Never thought I'd be okay with a dog," he said dryly.

"That, I saw coming."

He snorted. "Who's the cocky one now?"

"Well, was I wrong?"

He grumbled something incoherent, but he leaned into your body when you pressed yourself against him.

The two of you stayed quiet after that, letting the starlight and the heat of your bodies do all the talking. You knew, possibly for the first time since reuniting with him, exactly what was on his mind. You knew what he saw in that night sky, so much more beautiful than the stalactite ceiling of the Underground. You knew what he saw in the two of you: people once dust, barely present in this world, now strong and built into something more certain, more permanent.

 _We survive,_ you remembered him saying, yourself saying, _even if we are alone._

But you weren't alone, and you never would be again.

Neither of you would turn to dust, and neither of you would leave.

You’d have each other, always.

* * *

**_8_**

_‘…hey?’_

_‘What?’_

_‘Just thinking ‘bout something.'_

_‘Oh.’_

_‘…is that it?! Don’t you wanna know what it is!?’_

_‘Sure, I guess. Let’s hear it.'_

_‘One day, I won’t steal anymore. And you won’t be skinny anymore. And we won’t be living in this crap place anymore.’_

_‘The brothel?’_

_‘No, the Underground!’_

_‘…you’re full of shit.’_

_‘Jeez. Language!’_

_‘But you are!’_

_‘No, I’m not! I just have plans. Goals!’_

_‘Bullshit plans!’_

_‘Hey, I feed you. Don’t get smart with me!’_

_‘Someone’s gotta be smart between the two of us.’_

_‘Yeah. And someone’s gotta have crazy dreams.’_

_‘Pft.’_

_A long pause._

__

__

_‘Mom always said it’d be nice to leave.’_

_‘…yeah.’_

_‘…I miss her.’_

_‘Me too.’_

_Another pause._

_‘You’re not pulling my leg?’_

_‘Nah.’_

_‘You really wanna do this.’_

_‘Yeah. I promise.’_

_‘You sure?’_

_‘I am! Here, I’ll pinky promise.’_

_‘Pinky promises are stupid as hell.’_

_‘Wow, Levi. Your mom would wash your mouth with soap! I should!’_

_He scowled, but stuck out his pinky anyway._

_‘Well? Come on. Promise, then.’_

_‘Yay!’_

_‘I can’t believe I’m doing this.’_

_‘Except you are, and you’re sticking to it!’_

_Your thin fingers hooked, fragile but firm._

_‘I promise,’ you swore._

_The both of you smiled._

_‘Yeah._

_‘I promise.’_


	4. Afterword

While writing _Dust, Diamonds_ , I did a lot of aggressive cutting and revisions and unfortunately, a lot of material didn't make the final cut, so I really wanted to explain some of those off-screen details since they do add to the story.

Part III originally included a lot more interaction between the reader and Levi's squad, but I couldn’t fit a lot of it in. It’s unfortunate, because I don’t believe someone can heal from trauma and isolation without developing friendships and a support network beyond a romantic partner. In particular, you bonded briefly with Mikasa (weird, I know), over your childhood and adult dependence on Levi and Eren, respectively. Jean was also especially supportive of you (and confused at the utter devotion you gave Levi), since you had left an impression on him after your brief scene together in Part II. That’s why they were so adamant on attending your wedding.

Additionally, I had originally planned for external pressures to play a much bigger role in Part III, and to show the reader participating in the wider Shingeki no Kyojin plot (she eventually enlists and gets involved with the espionage projects in Marley, because she’s talented at that). However, it complicated and distracted a lot from the main themes in Part III, so I cut all those scenes. I do worry that people won't like Part III as much because it really focused on internal conflicts and a much more uncertain reader character in the process of healing. I hope that didn’t detract too much from the story, and that people understood my writing decisions. 

I have no idea how the canon story will go, and I’m not even caught up with the manga, but in the continuity of this fanfiction, Levi and you survive the conflict with Marley, the two of you get to own your tea establishment, keep a dog, and have a boy and a girl. 

Finally, for those interested, here's what I was listening to while writing: 

Shingeki no Kyojin OST - [So ist es immer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_jqSy8E9JLQ) (Part I, and last two scenes of Part III)  
Lust, Caution soundtrack - [Wong Chia Chi’s theme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XR-Y9iWZurI) (Part II)  
Norihiro Tsuru - [Last Carnival](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lMUhjDeEPfA) (Parts I and II)  
A Tale of Two Sisters soundtrack - [Epilogue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tKt5hrpZ4c) (Part III)

That's all. Thank you for reading _Dust, Diamonds_!


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